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euphoricfilter · 11 months

Text

standing next to you:

pairing: dancer! jungkook x f. reader

genre: fluff || smut || non-idol au || strangers to somewhat lovers

summary: with all those eyes on him, he only had eyes for you

word count: 4k

tags/ warnings: infidelity (womp womp), m/c has a crusty rich old bitch of a husband, smut in the forms of: dom! jungkook, who is a little condescending (because we all know i like that), subby! reader, semi-public sex?, oral (fem. receiving), unprotected sex, the pull out method (womp womp), multiple orgasms, cum marking? jungkook has a dick piercing!!!! lets goooo!!!!

notes: yippee jungkook gave me another smut idea. kinda half edited so if there’s mistakes then no there isn’t <\3

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

It couldn’t have been more than half a second, Jungkook’s eyes catching yours for the briefest moment as the spotlights dance over the crowd, what could have been mistaken for the galaxy reflected in your irises as you look at him.

The eyes that told a story of worship, how his mere existence was a crazed phenomenon your brain was barely able to process as you follow his body across the stage.

For months now, he would catch glimpses of you, always sat at the same table with the same people. Never once talking to them as your focus lays solely on him as he dances on stage.

Your face is soon veiled by one of his back-up dancers, flicker of a moment gone. Whatever was there, a short spark of interest simmering out as your face is no longer in his line of sight. Buzz of something a little more snapped, dissolving into fine dust under the orange hue of the light.

There was such innocent wonder in your eyes as your gaze flickers across the stage, entirely enamoured by what lay before you. The theatre nothing like you had ever seen before, ever so extravagant, and elegant. Male dancers dominating the stage, flowing as if they were dancing on ice, so free-spirited in the ways their bodies move.

Constant stimuli of such an event scratching the back of your mind—the way Jungkook moves enough for you to drown out the rest of the chatter behind you, your existence nothing to any of these people.

Your heart hammers in time with the base that tickles the bottom of your feet, broaches on the dancers’ jackets star-like as the spotlight finds its place back on stage, Jungkook’s face soon illuminated again. Face sculpted, a gift from the high heavens, a man that captures the hearts of many, man and woman alike.

He wonders if your eyes remain on him, bright with wonder as he glides across the stage, trying his hardest to find your eyes behind the harsh glare of the lights, sat ever so pretty, the prettiest little thing he’d ever seen.

It’s only when the lights dim does he see the hand on your thigh, silver band of a wedding ring sat one of the fingers.

Though you don’t seem to notice, entirely focused on the stage you don’t seem to realise when your husband squeezes your thigh, entirely unaware when he pushes his chair back to stand up. Ignorant to the fact that he saunters over to another woman a couple of tables behind where you’re sat.

Left alone in the company of your husband’s friends, who have no means to talk to you, nor acknowledge your existence. Because who would talk to the wife of the man who clearly has no care for what should be his lover? And as much as you pretend to not notice, never once asking why he gets home so late, or the messages that flash across the screen of his phone, never once have you brought it up.

Because that wasn’t your job. You weren’t there to care, to worry about who got your husband’s dick wet or who was stuffed full of his cum, who had it dripping down their legs when he re-emerges after you hadn’t seen him for what felt like hours. You were there to look pretty, and to smile at any man that gives you attention, nothing more and nothing less.

Jungkook thinks you must be the first to stand on your feet once the performance is over, eager in your applause. Too shy to meet his eyes from where he looks down at you from the stage, but not enough to not show your appreciation for his art. Glittery shimmer of the dim light illuminating you, stood centre of the room, awe reflected from your face as you quickly glance up to look at him before the curtain lowers.

So many minutes of your life stolen by him, perfect in the way his body moved, moments you never wish you get back because you wished to watch him dance forever.

Your eyes flit down to the sliver of stomach that peeks from beneath his blazer when he raises his arms at the applause.

You swallow at the deep rumble of his voice as he thanks the crowd, turning to thank the back-up dancers too before he’s facing you again, hint of a smile on his face as he takes one final bow. The curtains falling from the ceiling, your hair tickling your neck at the short gust of wind it produces.

It takes a moment for you to gather yourself, mind reeling as you glance around the room. Entirely isolated, even with hundreds of people surrounding you.

You can’t see where your husband had wandered off to, swallowing down any apprehension you have as you sit back down, fingers gentle as they pick up the flute of champagne—too expensive for your tastes, and you hate to think just how much it costs. Much rather having the host spend that sort of money on the reason for this evening than wowing guests with expensive alcohol and high-end food. Because surely the fund raiser would fare better with all that money than the pompous assholes that laughed in the face of the less fortunate.

You almost jump out of your seat when a heavy hand lands on your shoulder, eyes wide as your tilt your head upwards to see who it could be. Heart hammering when your eyes meet Jungkook’s, flickering across his face.

You swallow, “Hi” you breathe, turning your body to face him a little better.

The corners of Jungkook’s lips curl up into a smile, piercings catching the light, “What’s a pretty girl doing sitting alone?”

He pulls out an empty chair beside you, your head flickering across all the empty chairs around the table, wondering where all your husband’s friends had gone.

“Oh just…” you start, turning back to look at him, words dissolving on your tongue when your eyes meet his.

He raises an eyebrow, leaning back in the chair a little, legs spread wide. His eyes flicker down to the ring on your finger.

“I thought your performance earlier was amazing” you rush, hands running over your silk dress. Perfect change of conversation.

Jungkook leans a little closer to you, reaching across the table a little to grab your glass of champagne. Your eyes stay trained on his lips as they wrap around the rim of the glass, breath catching in the back of your throat as he downs the rest of your drink.

“I don’t think I ever caught your name?” he urges, eyes sharp as they flicker across your face.

“Y/n” you breathe, “and you are…”

“Jungkook” he holds out his hand for you to shake. You take it, toes curling, imaginary electric current slipping down your body at his gentle touch.

“I could show you backstage if you like?” he offers, hands smothering down the imaginary creases in his suit, nodding towards the stage, “It’s pretty nice back there”

You glance over your shoulder, eyes scanning the room for a moment before you’re looking back at Jungkook nodding, “I would like that” you murmur, taking his hand when he offers it to you. He tugs you a little closer to his side once you’ve stood up, linking your arm with his as he walks the both of you around the maze of tables.

Not once does it cross your mind that all the people in the room can see you clinging onto another man, eyes glued to the side of his face as you paint a picture of him in your mind. After so many months of watching him perform on stage, a perfect entity so far out of reach, he was not stood beside you. Warm flesh radiating underneath his suit jacket, scar on his cheek deepened from the overhead lights, calloused hand holding yours.

Someone that had felt entirely unhuman, so long of yearning, but there he was, touching you like it were nothing and he weren’t one of your dreams. Silly little fantasies of a man that should never be yours, dreams of what days would be like with someone like Jungkook. Dreams that should have never been yours to begin with, not while the slippery claws of the law tie you to another man.

Jungkook, ever the gentleman, helps you up the stairs backstage. Narrow hallway entirely empty as he flicks the light on, “It’s truly wonderful back here” he tells you, not letting go of your hand once.

You look around in awe, head turning to look over the outfits hung on clothes racks as you walk by.

“We can order food in my dressing room? I assume you haven’t eaten yet and I don’t think they plan to bring dinner out for a while longer” he tells you, pulling a set of keys out the front pocket of his jacket, opening the door with ease.

“I am a little hungry” you hum, stepping into the dressing room, sitting on one of the couches when he motions for you to make yourself comfortable.

Your eyes flicker towards the door when he locks it, apprehension clawing its way up your body.

“Jungkook…?” you ask, gaze never leaving the lock, even as he slinks towards you, long steps across the room having him in front of you in no time.

“You’re tense” he sits beside you, hand running down the length of your arm, “Let me fix that”

You don’t miss the dark haze in his eyes, cunt clenching at the mere thought of a man of his calibre wanting you in any sort of way.

You swallow, eyes glancing down at his lips then back up to his eyes, “We can’t” you whisper.

“Why’s that?” he murmurs, fingers training over your thighs, silk dress soft under his fingertips.

“Because…” you start, swallowing down a whimper when his fingers graze your warm skin.

“Because” he urges, teasing as he inches his fingers that little big higher.

“Because my—” you swallow, Jungkook’s scoff cutting you off.

“Because of your incompetent husband?”

You tongue wets your bottom lip, fingers clenching by your side, “Yes” your voice breathless.

“Leave him” Jungkook groans, hand tugging yours closer to him, slipping the wedding ring off your finger.

You watch as he holds it, prickle of guilt building within your chest at the fact you don’t feel bad in the slightest for what you want from Jungkook, nor the fact he holds a symbol of love and you can only wish for him to take it forever, no longer yours. No longer a burden you wish to carry.

He slips it into the pocket of his jacket, leaning forward enough for the tip of his nose to kiss yours, short huff of a breath slipping past his lips. He tilts his head a little, gentle hesitation tugging at his body; leeway for you to pull away and stop this whenever you want.

You let out a shaky breath, fingers curling into the collar of his jacket, tugging him towards you. A groan catches in the back of his throat when your lips collide with his, desperate need radiating from every pore of your electrified body—tongue prodding at his bottom lip.

“My darling” he breathes in the brief moment you part, though he wastes no time tilting your head backwards that little bit as he kisses you again.

You hum against his lips, eyes slipping shut as his hands wander the length of your body, thumbs digging into your hips, down the length of your thighs until he’s tugging at the hem of your dress.

Your pussy clenches as his fingers inch that little bit higher, moan caught by Jungkook as he ghosts over tender skin, pulling the fabric higher and higher until he’s brushing his knuckles over your panties. Damp beneath his fingers as he presses through your covered folds, your hips bucking upwards when he nudges your clit.

A breathy laugh is pulled from him as you rock forward a little, chasing the pleasure as he presses his thumb a little harder against your clit.

“Pretty girl” he murmurs, hand slipping from between your legs to tug at your dress, pulling it up and over your head.

Your arms fold over your bare chest, Jungkook’s tongue wetting his bottom lip as his eyes rake down the length of your body, fingers digging into the meat of your thighs.

“How beautiful” he says, bending down a little to press a gentle kiss over your collar bone. His hands leaving your thighs to tug your arms away from your chest, guttural groan vibrating from his chest.

You let out something similar to a squeak when he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, goosebumps prickling up the skin of your arms at the flash of pleasure that shoots down your spine as his teeth graze over the sensitive skin.

Slick leaks into your panties as your hand grazes over the evident erection that strains behind the expensive fabric of his pant, cock twitching beneath the tips of your fingers as you squeeze his length.

“Want you” he ruts his hip upwards into your hand, tongue flat over your tits before he sucks at your warm skin, red blossoming with every mean little nip of his teeth. Claim of your body as his, evidence of his lust and your leaking pleasure that pools between your legs.

“You have me” you breathe, fiddling with the button of his dress pants, stumbling over yourself a little as he helps you lay back on the couch. He tugs your panties down your thighs, bottom lip tucking between his teeth as he watches the string of arousal that connects the cotton to your sodden pussy, all puffy and pretty. Clit erect and desperate, moan slipping off your lips when he leans down to press a kiss to the swollen little nub, pocketing your panties in his jacket.

“Jungkook” you moan, fingers digging into his hair, pulling him further into your pussy, hips rolling up into his face as he lays his tongue flat for you to ride.

He tugs down his pants and underwear just under his straining cock as you use him to get yourself off, shameless in your own pleasure as he moans into your pussy—incoherent whisper of how good you taste drowned out by the slick sound of your folds parting, fingers prodding at your entrance before sinking between your walls.

You clench around the intrusion, fingers tightening their hold on Jungkook’s hair as you moan out his name, mind nothing but lust filled mush, pleasure coursing through every inch of your body as he sucks on your clit.

“Gonna cum” you moan, fingers tugging at your nipples. Hiccup of his name catching in your throat at a particularly hard suck, thick fingers curling right over your sweet spot.

He presses a second finger into your, incessant nudge against your insides sending you reeling over the edge. A cry falling from your lips as you reach your peak, hips still rutting up into Jungkook’s mouth as you ride your high.

“Good girl” he murmurs against your pussy, fingers slipping out of you so he can drink down your release. Tip of his tongue pressing past your entrance to take whatever your body has to give him, cum coated fingers pressing slightly over your still buzzing clit, fiery pleasure thrumming beneath your skin.

“S’ too much” you whine, pushing his head from between your legs, sheen of your arousal coating his mouth and chin shiny.

Your eyes flicker down when something shiny catches the light, and they widen slightly when you see his hand wrapped around his thick cock, thumb running over the king’s crown piercing.

“Oh” you murmur, pussy clenching at the prospect of him being inside of you.

Jungkook hums, fingers squeezing tighter around his length, “You like it, baby?”

You swallow, tongue running over your bottom lip.

You nod, legs falling open a little wider for him, “Want it” you mumble, fingers parting your folds, silent invitation for him to split you open, fuck and fill you until you’re nothing than a pile of pleasure.

“Yeah?” his lips curl at the corners, hint of a smile showing.

“Mhmm” you nod, and his eyes catch sight of your cunt clenching.

“What do we say when we want something, baby?” he urges, scooting between your legs, pressing his cockhead through your folds, watching your hips jolt at the gentle stimulation to your clit.

You arch your back, dribble of slick caught by the tip of his cock as he slicks his length up with your arousal.

“Please, Jungkook” you breathe, “Please I need you”

“So good for me” he groans, thumb pressing just under his piercing, pressing his cock into you.

Your mouth falls open into a silent moan, ache throbbing down your length as his cock splits you open.

“Good girl” he murmurs, stomach tensing when you clench around his cock, piercing dragging deliciously against your walls.

“So good” you moan, hands finding his hips to pull him further inside of you, desperate for every agonising inch he had.

He holds himself inside of you, pelvis flushed with the backs of your thighs as he helps you rest your legs around his waist.

“Yeah, you feel good, baby?” he leans down, lips pressing against your jaw, fingers sinking into the flesh of your hips, gently rutting his cock into you, “Better than your husband could ever make you feel, yeah?”

He lets out a breathy laugh when he feels you clench around his girth, thighs twitching at his words.

“Come on baby, tell me how much better I make you feel” he taunts, dragging an inch of his cock out of you, distressed whine tumbling past your lips as your pussy clenches, trying to pull his cock back into you.

“Tell me” one of his hands takes hold of your jaw, tugging your face so your eyes meet his, “Tell me”

“You make me feel better than he does” you mumble.

“Louder” he shakes your head a little.

“You make me feel better” you say a little louder, chest tightening.

“Than who?” he urges, thumb running over your bottom lip, pressing into your mouth and over your tongue.

“My husband” you slur, mouth tugged open by his thumb.

“And who do you belong to?”

You blink up at Jungkook, drool gathering in the corners of your lips, such a pretty little thing. Ever so messy and desperate, awfully cute if you asked Jungkook.

“Who?”

You swallow, pussy clenching, “You”

“Mmhmm” he hums, “that’s right, all mine”

You rut your hips upwards, clit dragging against his stomach, thrum of pleasure making your toes curl, eyes still trained on Jungkook as you try and get yourself off.

He tugs at the corner of your mouth, thumb pressing into your cheek, watching as the skin bulges. And he wonders briefly what you’d look like with his cock stuffed in your mouth, pretty eyes blinking up at him like they did when he performed on stage; like he held all the secrets to the world in the palms of his hands. Those same hands that would smother your body with his love, dimpling pretty skin and pulling you back onto his cock.

“Jungkook” you whine, hips rutting a little more desperately, so needy for a second orgasm.

“A needy little thing, that’s what you are” his lips curl into a smile, thumb falling from your mouth as his hips pull backwards, your thighs quivering at the drag of his piercing inside of you.

He pulls out until the tip, hands tugging your thighs open a little wider before he’s snapping back into you, relentless as he picks up his pace. He holds you by the backs of your knees, angling your body that little bit off the couch, cockhead pressing against your sweet spot with every rough jab back into you.

“Shit, that’s good” he groans, wet smack back into you echoing off the walls of the dressing room.

You moan a staccato of his name, nothing but how good his cock fills you up in your mind, so entirely full of Jungkook in every respect of the word.

He doesn’t slow down, rhythmic with every thrust back into you, pussy clenching as your fingers slide down the length of your body, pressing over your sensitive clit.

“I’m close” you moan, free hand dragging down the length of his arm, grabbing at the fabric of his suit as your back arches.

“Come for me, baby” he groans, “Make a mess of my cock”

Your hand slips from his arm, grabbing hold of your chest as you continue to flick your clit, moan catching in the back of your throat as you slip head first into your orgasm.

Jungkook watches your face contour in pleasure, snapping his cock into you sloppy. He twitches between your walls, fingers digging into you a little harder, staving off his orgasm for as long as he can while you ride out your high, mind so far gone, eyes glazed over as you look up at him.

“That’s it, baby” his voice is gruff, pressing his cock against your sweet spot, your hips jolting, pleasure slipping into odd tingly overstimulation as he ruts into you, your fingers still pressing over your clit.

Jungkook moans, cock slipping out of you, his hand quick to wrap around his length. Slick noise reverberating in your ears as he brings himself over the edge, angling his cock so his cum paints your stomach. Thick string of white coating your skin, spurts of it shooting out of his cock. His stomach tenses, eyes slipping shut as he squeezes his cockhead, final spurt of his seed slipping just over your clit, joining the wet mess of your cunt as it slips down your folds.

“That’s a good girl” he groans, letting go of his softening cock.

He looks at you down the length of his nose, watching as you smear his cum over your skin, absolutely fascinated as it clings to your fingers.

His cock stirs in interest when you dip your fingers into your mouth, tongue licking up his release.

“You little minx” he laughs, bringing your legs back down, bending to press a kiss to your cum stained lips.

Your eyes slip shut as he kisses you, any tension left in your body dissolving as his tongue licks up his own release from your lips.

“Leave him” Jungkook murmurs, mouth hovering over yours, eyes still closed as the both of you bask in your afterglow. Skin sweat tacky, cooling slowly as his fingers dance over your skin, final humming of pleasure beneath your skin fizzling away.

“I can’t” you breathe.

“Run away then” he says, “with me”

Your eyes slip open, hand holding Jungkook’s jaw.

“Jungkook” you warn.

“What?” he mumbles, eyes slipping open to meet your own, “We can go somewhere far, he won’t find you… he won’t find us”

You wet your bottom lip, mind reeling as you weigh out your options.

“He doesn’t love you” his thumb runs over your cheek.

“I know” you whisper, eyes flickering between his, “But do you?”

Jungkook swallows, “Not as much as I want to, but that doesn’t mean what I’m feeling isn’t love”

You glance over at the clock on the wall, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as silence stretches out between the both of you.

You let out a long sigh, “We have an hour at most… before he’ll come looking”

Jungkook can’t help the smile that tugs onto his lips, “Then we should get going?”

The corners of your own lips tug upwards, “Yes… I suppose we should” you say, taking the hand he offers to help you sit up.

“Don’t make me regret this” you warn him as you slip your dress over your head, cringing at the drying cum that clings to your skin.

“I won’t” he promises.

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook fic #bts non idol au #bts

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lunarmoves · 7 months

Text

through pixel eyes (chapter one)

pairing: DCA sun/moon/eclipse x reader

mentions: kinitopet/virtual au, gender neutral reader, general creepiness

a/n: ignoring that it's 3am where i am... ch1's finally here! yippee!! ending is rushed but im tired so excuse it LOL pls check out the masterlist for more info on the fic (tags & summary). hope u guys enjoy! :D

word count: 5.3k+

masterlist

ao3 link

Click. Click. Taptap tap tap. Click.

You chew aimlessly at the bottom of your lip as your mouse roves over to the latest email in your inbox, opening it with another decisive click. Perking up slightly, your eyes skim through its contents, mindful of the zip file attached to it at the top.

Valued employee, the email reads, thank you again for your decision to assist Fazbear Entertainment in the latest beta testing stages for our developing proprietary technology. Attached is the file you are required to download to begin testing. As always, be mindful of the documentation you have signed previously; a failure to comply will result in immediate termination. Located at the bottom of this email is the submission form you will need to populate each time you conduct a run. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to reply to this email. Have a Faz-errific day!

You hum and scroll back to the top of the email again so you can look at the attached file. FazPals1.1_DCA.zip, it says. You click the download button, then lean back in your chair as you wait.

For being such a large company, FazCo has a rather small beta testing team. You suppose it makes sense, though; their technology is so unparalleled that you are sure they’d want to keep information as closed off as possible. Hence why you’d been forced to sign all matters of forms—contracts, an N.D.A., and waivers, of all things—before they’d signed you on. You’re sure they are even more restrictive with their information after the pizzaplex burned down all those years ago. You’re lucky you’d managed to slither your way into their ranks to make the beta team, though you figure it helps that your resume is stacked with experience.

You are certainly curious as to what they’ve been doing while they parade assurances that the pizzaplex will return “better than ever.” You have a vague idea from your past emails with management as you were being incorporated into the beta testing team—some kind of interactive game of sorts, you think—but they’ve been rather hush-hush about it. Your answer resides in the zip file that’s just finished downloading to your computer. You navigate to your file explorer and begin the extraction process for the files. Luckily, it doesn’t take too long. You scratch idly behind your ear, shifting your headphones a little to rest more comfortably atop your head.

Okay. File open. Where is the— There! You double click on the FazPals_DCA.exe file to run it and begin installation. A brief glance at the time shows it is a little after six in the evening. You have quite a bit of time before you’ll need to head to bed. You’ll see how far into the program you get before you hit a checkpoint or something.

You watch as a tiny pink and white bear on the installation window flips a pizza over and over while the progress bar steadily inches its way to full completion. It is oddly hypnotizing. And when the program finally finishes installing, the window closes. An icon of a cool crescent moon tucked into the burning yellow of a sun appears on your desktop and is labeled as FazPals. Nice. Thank you, fast WiFi. Without much preamble, you double click on the icon.

A small window pops up in the middle of your screen. You glance through the text quickly.

Welcome to version 1.1 of FazPals, your very own virtual desktop friend based on the hit characters from Fazbear Entertainment's Mega Pizzaplex! They are able to walk, talk, joke, tell stories, give fun facts, adapt, and play games! FazPals are like no other with their innovative adaptive technology! You'll learn from them as they learn from you!

Click the button below if you are ready to meet your new FazPal!

Not what you’d been expecting, but it sounds pretty cool. It reminds you of the Tamagotchis from all those years ago—only with the A.I. of Fazbear-branded technology. Well! No time like the present! You click the ‘Proceed’ button and the window closes.

In the center of your screen, a small music box appears. It’s an unassuming little thing, wrapped in yellow with a red ribbon crossing over it to tie into a neat bow at the top. A crank awaits your click, so you do just that, watching as it rotates around and around until— Pop! The box opens and something jumps out of it with a flourish and a jingle of bells that echoes through your headset.

The box disappears and you’re left to stare curiously at the little figure swaying animatedly on your desktop. He seems to look around a bit, then a small dialogue box flashes over his head. But before you can read its contents, the box disappears in a static puff. You cock your head slightly. A glitch, maybe? You file that away for later and instead observe the tiny, taut grin of the program. Your FazPal, or whatever.

You recognize him from the pizzaplex commercials you’d seen on the television years ago—the Daycare Attendant. A fellow—fellows?—modeled after celestial bodies. You’re looking at the sun, currently, though his design is a bit different from what you remember seeing.

Before you can get a good look at him, however, another dialogue box pops up over his head with text accompanying a voice that chirps into your headset. You are momentarily surprised at the sound; you hadn’t expected FazCo to incorporate their voice module into the program too.

“Hellooo, New Friend!” Sun exclaims in a slightly pixelated manner—hardly noticeable, really—as he waves a small hand. “My name is Sun, your very own F-FazPal!” There’s a slight glitch on the word that makes his voice deepen slightly, but it passes easily enough. “What’s your name?”

Following his question, a window labeled ‘Name?’ pops up to his side with a textbox for you to input your answer. Figuring he isn’t going to proceed with his script until you type your answer, you take the moment to properly analyze his design.

Detached sunrays of white and gold hover around his head, framing bright eyes and an equally as bright smile on a face split into a crescent. He’s rather lithe, with a red sash tied around his waist that’s adorned with small, golden bells. Another bell is tied around his spindly neck with a red ribbon, and those same ribbons are tied around his wrists. His torso is bare and colored in different shades of yellow. Puffy red pants cover his legs—triangularly shaped with sharp lines and edges. They are decorated in a design that reminds you of the circuitry of a motherboard—dissecting lines connected by small circles that start from his waist and make their way down the length of his pants in a trickle. Pointy shoes with little suns on their sides finish the look.

He is all angles and unforgiving points, with a digitized sort of look to him that fits the whole ‘FazPal’ aesthetic, in your opinion. It’s certainly interesting. You like the futuristic feel to it.

Pulling yourself back to the present, you type in your name. Sun has his arms crossed behind his back as he waits, swaying gently side to side. You hit enter and the window disappears.

“Lovely name!” Sun chirps, his rays spinning around his head eagerly that you eye in interest. They look like floating pieces of fractured, stained glass, dainty yet deadly. “I’m sure we are going to be the bestest best friends!” You snort at the declaration.

“To start our little quest of friendship,” Sun continues on, his head moving towards the dialogue box that pops up near him like he’s looking at it, eyes narrow. It’s honestly difficult to tell with that blank gaze of his. He returns his gaze to the front, where his eyes upturn into little crescents. “Why don’t we get to know each other? Sound good?”

Another window appears with two simple buttons sitting next to each other under it: A ‘Yes’ and a ‘No’. You click the ‘Yes’ and Sun gives an excited little clap of his hands. It’s cute, in a way. “Wonderful! Okay! To start, what iiisss your favorite color?” The open window closes, then reopens to a textbox again with the new question displayed at the top. You hum and tap your chin thoughtfully, then let your fingers fly across your keyboard as you type the color in.

You pause, however, before you hit enter and decide to tack on a ‘hbu?’ to your response. If only to satisfy your curiosity and really test the limits of FazCo’s ingenious A.I. Hey, you’re a beta tester—it speaks for itself!

Sun grins even wider, if possible. “That’s a good one! As for me…” He makes a thinking gesture, eyes narrowing like he’s contemplating it deeply, then brightens up. No, literally. A lightbulb appears over his head for a quick moment. “I like all the colors, it’s so hard to choose just one! Normally, I just say ‘rainbow’!” He makes a little semicircle gesture with his hands around his head. Little pixelated sparkles wink into and out of existence near his fingers before he clasps his hands behind him once more. You’ve got to hand it to FazCo—they certainly know how to add some flair to their characters. “Next question! If you could have any superpower ever, what would it be?”

You chew at your lip again as you lean back in your chair and ponder his question. Why is it when people ask you these kinds of questions you always blank on the answers? Sun is ever so patient as he waits, moving in that idle animation next to the open window.

Ah well, it’s not like you’re answering an interview question or anything. You wing it. ‘probably invisibility, or something. hbu?’ And enter.

“Ooh! Invisibility!” Sun nods like he’s giving his approval. “Good in the right hands! I would want the power to read minds, I think! All the better for making fantastic friends!”

You make a small sound at that. Well, you suppose that’s one way to make friends, albeit not a very… stable foundation to base a friendship off of. Sun proceeds with his next question. “This one’s a bit of a tough one! What’s your favorite word?”

‘Tough’ is an understatement. You’re stumped. You rake through your mind for a word and draw up nothing but blanks. You’re certain you have one, but you just cannot think of it at the moment. Shrugging, you type ‘idk. i can't think of one rn, sorry. do u have one?’

His head cocks to the side, grin curling at the edges. “That’s more than one word, New Friend!” Sun replies amusedly, then laughs—a loud, tinkering thing that cuts off a bit strangely at its end. “Kidding! I’ll let you off easy for that one!” He is quite good at adapting to your responses, you note lightly. Very intriguing. You wonder how that’s coded. “My favorite word is supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!” You blink in surprise. The dialogue box is barely able to hold the word inside of it. You didn’t quite expect him to say that, of all words, though you guess it makes sense for him. Sun doesn’t elaborate, just transitions merrily through the next part of his script. “Now, for this question, I need you to be as detailed as possible, okay? It is”—he pauses for a second—“essential.”

You nod, but it’s not like he can see you, so you end up looking like a fool. Sun stares straight ahead and it… it feels a bit like he’s looking directly at you. You shift uneasily in your seat and watch his eyes go dark along with his white rays and wide smile. Abyss-like. Something drops in the pit of your stomach at the abrupt switch. His smile widens. It cracks like he’s on the edge of something hysterical. And when he speaks, it’s in a low, garbled voice that grates at your ears.

“Where.” He grits out. “Are—”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish. A glitch encompasses his body that makes his rays twitch erratically and his limbs to jitter about like he’s being electrocuted. You jerk back out of surprise and consider exiting the hell out of the program. But then he’s back to normal like nothing had ever happened. White eyes stare up at you with an equally as white smile.

“Oh!” Sun exclaims cheerfully, swaying about gently. You’re taken aback and, quite frankly, confused out of your goddamn mind. “Silly me, look at the time! I’m afraid our friendship will have to wait! There’s someone else who’d like to meet you!”

“What.” You utter the word mindlessly, eyes flicking down to the time on your computer. 6:59 P.M. Time sure did fly by through all of… that. You’re not entirely sure what to think of it.

“Talk to you soon, New Friend!” Sun waves a hand in farewell, then spins himself around in a little animated tornado. You can only stare, oddly transfixed and still utterly flummoxed, as he spins around, and around, and around until the clock changes to 7:00 P.M. and he slows to an elegant stop.

Only, it’s not Sun you’re looking at anymore.

The rays are gone, replaced with a nightcap covering his head that’s adorned with twinkling stars and a little bell at the end. All the yellows have shifted to greys, blues, and blacks, though he still retains the golden bells, red ribbons, and red sash. His pants are a midnight blue with the same circuitry design, and his shoes now have little moons etched into them instead of suns.

This must be the moon, you conclude once you’re done observing him. The other half to the Daycare Attendant you remember seeing via advertisement—the one who’d been in charge of naptime.

You watch as Moon seems to look around. You’re not sure what he’s looking at, but you can only wait. Gentle ruby eyes move from your desktop icons to the open window that Sun had been standing next to. His smile turns jagged like the outline of a mountain. And then—

And then he slinks away, disappearing straight off of your monitor without a second look. You’re left staring at the open window, the cursor still blinking in the textbox and awaiting your input. What… just happened? You blink at where he’d disappeared off screen and wait a few moments. But he doesn’t come back.

What the hell?

Five minutes turns into ten, which turns into fifteen and then twenty, but he truly does not return. You’re stupefied.

Maybe you should restart the program? You nibble at your lower lip and right click on the FazPals icon so you can end it and then boot it back up again. Your mouse turns into that loading circle of death, and you swear you’re not holding your breath in anticipation or anything, but it sure does feel like it.

Loading… loading… loading…

…

Nothing. Zip, zilch, nada. Moon does not appear. You groan and scratch at your ear again, shifting your headphones. Day one of testing and you’ve already run into a problem. Great. Well, it wasn’t like you’d expected everything to be smooth sailing. Still annoying, though. Just in case, you try restarting your computer.

It doesn’t yield any results either, and you end up just watching some videos as you wait to see if the bug will magically fix itself. Spoiler alert, it doesn’t and you eventually give up as the clock ticks closer to midnight.

But well—you think as you slowly pull up the submission form FazCo had sent you for your job to fill out—you suppose this is why the program’s still in the testing phase. It obviously has some kinks that need to be ironed out. Hopefully it’ll get fixed up in the next patch update. Until then, you’ll just have to deal with it.

A benefit of working from home? You get to set your own schedule. A blessing, at times.

That unfortunately means you have to stick to it while ensuring you’re properly taking care of yourself, and going outside to get fresh air, and also getting all the necessary work done on time, and also—

Well, you get the point.

You wake up groggy the next day and stumble your way out of your room, just barely managing to step over the little Roomba aimlessly bumbling down the small hallway. At one point it was another product you were testing, but then it was given the green flag for mass production and admission to stores. The company let you keep the one they sent you. It was a little finicky, but it worked just fine. You named it Chicken Nugget a while ago—Dr. Nugget for short, because a Roomba with a PhD was just too amusing to pass up. You’re still musing over what area its PhD is in.

There is much to be done. Dishes from last night need to be washed, food needs to be prepared to last you a few days, timesheets need to be filled out before you forget your hours. It’s easy to multitask on household chores while you do your job. You're on the beta testing team for quite a few companies, so you’re kept busy evaluating their programs and products while you julienne onions and clean plates. You earn enough to live comfortably, and it’s all you can ever ask for, really.

Eventually, after a long day of being a responsible human being and submitting numerous evaluation forms for various applications, you plop down in front of your computer with your headphones and turn it on. Evening has just started to creep in, turning the sky into a picturesque gradient of burnt mandarin and dusty magenta. Your desk is right by a window, so it’s nice to draw the curtains back and let fresh air circulate around the room from it.

Alright, computer on. You type in your password to log in and wait as it finishes booting up. First thing on your list—check your email. There’s nothing of importance, not that you’d expected anything, really. Oh hey, you’ve got a discount code for your next purchase at your favorite pizza store. Sweet. You save it for later.

All you have to do is test FazCo’s program and then you can relax for the rest of the night. You preemptively open up their submission form and minimize the window, then double click on the FazPals icon. Hopefully you won’t run into any problems. Code is weird like that—working perfectly fine at one moment and doing fuck all the next. And it’s always a pain filling those surveys out when there’s an abundance of bugs and glitches to point out. It’s simple, but oh so tedious. You guess that’s what you’re getting paid for, though.

Blinking back to attention, you squint at your empty desktop then double click on the FazPals icon again. Ah, there you go. Loading symbol.

Instead of the little music box like you’d been expecting, Sun comes into view by cartwheeling in from the side of your monitor. It’s silly and you smile slightly as he jumps up to his feet and splays his arms and a leg out wide like he’s about to fall into another cartwheel.

“New Friend!” he exclaims loudly alongside the text in his dialogue box, rays spinning rapidly about his head in delight. You wince slightly and lower your volume a bit. No need to kill your eardrums. “You’re back! It has been twenty-two hours, nine minutes, and thirty-seven seconds since we last interacted!”

Your brow raises at his precision, but what else did you expect from a computer program? Sun relaxes into his normal stance and leans forward eagerly. “So! What do you wanna do?” A small, labeled window pops up next to him for you to type in. One of his rays twitches slightly. “For a list of activities I can perform, type ‘/help’!”

You’ve already forgotten what he can do other than walk around and talk your ear off, so you do just that and the window disappears. You didn’t even have to hit enter.

Sun beams. “For your present and future reference, I can tell jokes, give fun facts, play games, and storytell! Pick your poison, New Friend!”

You ponder for a bit, then type ‘can u tell me a fun fact?’ in the new window before it pops out of sight, again before you can press enter. Huh. You make a note of it mentally. The back and forth with the windows is going to take some getting used to.

“I sure can!” Sun does a little wiggle and stands at full attention with his arms crossed behind his back. “Did you know that neutron stars spin six hundred times per second? Pretty cool!” He seems very cheery today. You’ll have to keep an eye out for any more of that strange glitching from yesterday. “Want another one?”

Eh, you don’t see why not. You shrug and click the ‘Yes’ button when it appears. Sun gives a little salute. “The most water ever discovered surrounds a black hole about twelve billion lightyears away! It has the equivalent of one hundred and forty trillion times the volume of Earth’s oceans!” You’re starting to see a theme here with his fun facts and it honestly checks out. Sun’s rays spin a little to the right as he tilts his head slightly. “That was two facts in one, technically. Just for you! Don’t tell anyone!!” And then he winks, accompanied by a little star spinning out from his eye. It’s a small detail, but it still makes you smile. Consider you charmed.

“Alrighty! I have an idea of what we can do next!” Sun says as he skips away to the edge of your monitor. You watch him curiously as he sticks a hand beyond your desktop—somewhere offscreen?—and starts pulling over a large open window from it. Like he’s unraveling a spool of paper. He drags the window over to the center of your screen, then wipes his face with his arm and takes an exaggerated breath. “Phew! That’s heavier than it looks! Luckily, I’ve got these to help me!” He flexes his stick-like arms dramatically, posing this way and that like he’s a pro wrestler.

You notice, as he poses, that another small window pops up—indistinct and unlabeled this time with a simple textbox for you to type in. But he… didn’t really ask you a question or anything of the sorts for you to respond to? You eye it for a moment, then decide to type a little ‘hi’ in it to see if it’s a bug or something. After waiting a few seconds to see if the window will close again without you hitting enter, nothing really happens. Oh, is it fixed now? You hit enter and the text disappears, but the window stays. You guess it is. Code, man. So finicky.

Sun stops flexing to shoot you a bright beam with a spin of his rays. “Hello!”

Okay, maybe it’s not a bug if he can still process your texts. Shrugging it off easily, you turn your attention to the window Sun had pulled over from who-knows-where. It looks like your computer’s Paint app. How did he open that? ‘what’s that for?’ you type into the textbox.

“This is for us to play some games, silly!” Sun brandishes his hands towards the Paint window like he’s presenting a masterpiece. “How does Tic-Tac-Toe sound?”

Well, not like you have any other ideas for what to do. ‘sure, let’s play.’

“Faz-tastic!” Sun claps his hands, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a comically large wooden pencil from its depths. Seriously, it’s nearly the length of his arm. It’s like something right out of a cartoon and you grin at the silliness. He steps closer to the Paint window and draws four perfectly straight and intersecting lines—each of them the same length and splitting into the same sized boxes and everything. He then draws a perfect circle in one of the corner boxes and steps back. “Your turn!”

You crack your knuckles and roll your shoulders. Okay. Time to lock in and kick this program’s ass.

Except you don’t.

You lose horribly. Seven times in a row, in fact.

‘r u cheating? ur cheating, aren’t u,’ you type into the open textbox, which had remained in place all throughout your games. Unusual, but you’re not too bothered by it. After you lost the first few rounds, you started complaining to him using it. You figured you might as well. It’s almost like having a conversation with him and you’re pretty impressed by his verbal versatility.

“Cheating?!” Sun squawks, offended. He splays a hand across his chest as he somehow manages to twirl his giant pencil in his hand like a baton. “A rulebreaker, I am not! I think someone is getting a little grumpy!” He gives you a pointed grin.

You should have expected you’d lose to fucking A.I. software. You run your tongue over your bottom lip, where you’d been incessantly troubling it with your teeth throughout the rather merciless Tic-Tac-Toe beating you’d just received. You’re considering mentioning in the submission form that the program is too difficult to beat at games, but maybe you’re just that bad at them. Your ego’s definitely going through it.

‘i’m not grumpy,’ you grumble. Sun shakes his little digital head in good mirth, seeing right through you, of course. You switch topics. ‘let’s play something else. got any other games?’

“I sure do, Friend!” He uses his pencil eraser to clear the Paint canvas and starts drawing what looks like a game of Hangman. He gives you a sly smile. “Think you’re up for a real challenge?” Cheeky!

After some rounds of Hangman and Pictionary (which, to your pleasant surprise, you’re not too bad at, but maybe Sun’s taking pity on you), Sun eventually closes the Paint window and makes a show of stretching languidly. “My time’s almost up, I’m afraid!” Sure enough, a quick glance at the time shows it’s nearing seven o’clock. Time flies when you’re having fun. “Make sure to stretch your back and arms out, Friend! Hydration is also important!”

‘yes boss, u got it, boss,’ you reply before stretching out your arms. You have a water bottle on your desk that you take a quick drink out of, the liquid inside of the insulated material still cool and refreshing. You shiver a little and eye your window still letting the night air into the room. You should close that soon. And maybe turn on the lights so you’re not sitting in the dark illuminated only by your bright screen.

Naturally, you do neither. Too much work right now.

Sun wiggles a little, then clasps his arms behind his back. “This was fun! I will talk to you tomorrow, Friend!” His grin widens, curling at the edges. “Don’t keep me waiting too long!”

And before you can really process the tone of that, he pulls out a red curtain from somewhere behind him. Shaking it out slightly, he pulls it up in front of him to block your view of his little figure entirely. You raise an eyebrow as the curtain wiggles and protrudes out like he’s changing into new clothes, before eventually it falls down and reveals Moon. His nightcap is pulled down to partially cover his glowing ruby eyes.

You lean forward in your chair, attention instantly grabbed. Will he work properly this time? You consider him for a moment as he simply stands there—sullen and, dare you say, annoyed. His eyes are narrowed and his mouth is pulled into a scowl. He shifts like he wants to move or leave, but something keeps him rooted into the same spot Sun was just in. His hands are tucked into the pockets of his pants (he has pockets??) and he slouches like a puppet cut from its strings.

He’s not saying anything. Only glares off at a point somewhere on your screen. You bite the inside of your cheek and decide to take one for the (nonexistent) team.

‘hi moon,’ you type into the textbox that’d remained even after Sun left. Pressing enter, you watch curiously as something tense seems to line Moon’s small shoulders and he moves his glare to the open window instead.

His head twitches. “Hi,” he replies slowly in a raspy voice. It’s not what you’d expected, low and murmured like he’s speaking to someone in a dark and quiet corner. His gaze darts to the dialogue box that pops up next to his head and seems to narrow even farther.

Oookay. He doesn’t say anything else. Is he still bugged or is he just programmed to be much quieter than Sun? You’re not sure if that makes sense for this type of program, though. You try to nudge the conversation again, thinking back to the list of commands Sun gave you earlier. ‘can u tell me a joke?’

Moon seems to look at you and it’s just as creepy as it had been when Sun did it. His scowl deepens. “No.”

You’re taken aback. No? Oh. Well. Maybe you should try something else? ‘can u tell me a fun fact?’ At least you know this command works for certain.

“No.”

It’s like pulling teeth over here.

You’re determined, however. This is your entire job. ‘what about a story?’

“No.” Moon bares knife-like teeth at you in aggravation and you’re tempted to do the same thing back. He doesn’t want to do anything! Something is definitely… off. You make a note of it to include in the submission form later. At least he hasn’t left your screen. You’ll take the win where you can.

You’re stumped on what to do. The only thing you can think of is to keep inputting commands until something gives. Maybe things will sort themselves out? You try asking for a fun fact or joke again, but Moon still just scowls and answers in that same clipped manner. His fidgeting seems to increase.

You’re getting close to calling it quits. ‘why don’t we play a game or something? tic-tac-toe?’

“P-Persistent little thing,” Moon growls into your headset and it’s such a reprieve from the constant rejections that you’re not even offended. You perk up slightly only to deflate at his following words. “Didn’t anyone teach you that ‘no’ means no?”

‘no,’ you type as a response—partly in annoyance and partly just to be snarky. Moon twitches again, and then in the blink of an eye—he glitches.

Similar to Sun, it spreads down his body in a wave and makes him jitter until he snaps back into place like a rubber band. He flexes his hands and takes a step to the side—tentative and exploratory. The window with the textbox pops out of existence and Moon gives you one final, narrowed glare before he just… leaves offscreen. Again. What the fuck?

You scrub a hand down your face and groan. You don’t expect him to return, but just in case you wait around a little and kill some time by filling out the submission form. Name, program version, strengths, encountered issues, and so on. You submit the form when you finish and roll your shoulders. Yeah, he doesn’t come back. At least there was some progress compared to yesterday.

You end the day with a final squint at the FazPals icon and a shrug of your shoulders. Things could be worse, you suppose as you power off your computer and stare at your reflection through the dark screen of your monitor. Hopefully tomorrow brings more improvement.

part two

158 notes · View notes

17020 · 19 days

Text

BARBIE AND ???

Part 2 of "DOLLHOUSE"! Tags: toxic relationships, exes, ume and yn are iffy, just post-breakup texts. not proofread

You tried to restrain yourself. You really did. But the text message was sent to Umemiya's number. And it sure as hell didn't type itself.

Yn Ln I want my jersey back The one my dad bought you

That's how close Umemiya was to your family. He was spoiled rotten, constantly being gifted shirts, jerseys, headphones—you name it, he had it as a gift from you or your family.

And it wasn't that you were upset over the hundreds, even thousands of dollars that you spent on him—your family had spent even more, and that infuriated you. About fifteen minutes later, your phone pinged.

Unknown I'll give it to you when I return to Makochi, I'll give everything back I can send them to you with Kotoha since she's visiting in a few weeks

Yn Ln Kotoha can give me the jersey, burn everything else I couldn't care less You wanna know what my therapist told me?

Your heart was pounding out of your chest as your vision slowly blurred, crystalline tears filling your eyes.

Unknown What.

Hajime Umemiya had turned into someone you had never met before, and his actions showed the type of person he had become.

Yn Ln I was right to ask for respect, and you should've listened to my insecurities and inconformity with those girls, especially since they have been trouble for our friends' relationships in the past. You should've done something, the bare minimum could've been to talk to them, and they would understand, they're women and they've understood before.

The text bubble flickered, appearing and disappearing every few seconds. It drove you insane.

Unknown Yeah sorry

Yn Ln That's all you have to say?

Unknown Yeah, if I go back to you, i'll be repeating the cycle over again But hey, if you need a friend, feel free to send me a follow request. I'd like to keep you as a friend

You were not sure if Umemiya had been high as a kite, or if he was being absolutely serious. Was the all-mighty Hajime Umemiya a celebrity now? He was sure as hell acting like one.

Yn Ln I would consider being your friend

Unknown YAY REALLY?

Yn Ln In like 30 years. If we're not dating, I don't wanna know anything about you, so go ahead and burn in hell.

Unknown You seriously think I'd go back to someone who talks to me like that?

He had a fair point.

Yn Ln You're nothing to me now, I can say what i please. You're a fucking immature idiot, Hajime Umemiya.

Unknown Don't even bother texting me anymore Yn.

How's that for closure?

taglist (open, yippee!): @stunie @kaiser1ns @nyxypoo @karasuglazer @littleplantfreak @maruflix @heartkaji

#wind breaker x reader #wind breaker x you #umemiya x reader #hajime umemiya x reader #umemiya hajime x reader #wind breaker (satoru nii) x reader #windbreaker x reader #umemiya x y/n

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astermath · 1 year

Text

nemesis; part two.

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: with carmen reworking the restaurant, you’d think his mind would be far too occupied to even think about anything else. yet he can’t shake the guilt from what he’d put you through a month prior. after some talks in therapy, he decides to take a leap of faith and see if he can talk it out with you. he not only wants to convince you that he can be better, but he's got an offer for you too. one you truly can't refuse.

♡ landing page ♡

word count: 4.9K

tags: carmen being unsure about his feelings but trying to be better episode 3265742, letting reader in a little more, APOLOGIES!!!, cursing ig, carm goes to therapy yippee, syd being the absolute realest, regular font below!

notes: sorry this took literally forever omg, I lost my carmen muse for a bit but we are SO back baby. I missed him so much and so sorry if some things don't follow the canon completely (I've been watching season 2 on and off bc I've been so busy lol BUT my fics never follow the canon completely anyways),, hope u guys enjoy and let me know if you'd like a part three ;))

lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Carmen’s life hadn’t known a moment of mental rest in ages. If you asked him when he last sat down with his thoughts or acknowledged his mental anguish, he probably would have said he couldn’t remember the last time. If ever.

With plans to completely revamp The Beef and everything that came with it, now his feelings should be the last thing on his mind. Renovation plans, unforeseen costs and a completely new menu, sure, he could worry his ass off about those, but feelings? Absolutely not. Good thing he was usually so good at suppressing those anyways.

So why was it that he couldn’t shake the thought of what he did to you?

Why, every time he had a moment to himself, would he be overtaken by this intense feeling of guilt? He didn’t even have to be alone, just a second of quiet and the image of you crying in distress would intrude on his thoughts.

It was getting to a point where he’d told his sister, Natalie, about it. Well, not all of it, he wasn’t even sure if he knew all of it. Just that he knows he hurt you, and that coming to terms with what he projected onto you might be a good first step in understanding himself better.

Or maybe it was something more along the lines of “I gotta talk my shit to some people”. Probably that.

To his surprise, it was actually helping. Besides the group therapy sessions where he’d talk about Mikey, the business and his future, he was talking to other people in his life too. Even told Sydney about you, kind of on accident. The words just seemed to… Flow out. It was probably the exhaustion doing its thing.

“I guess I just felt like,” he kept his eyes on the floor he was sweeping, “she was doing it all to fuck with me. I don’t even know where I got the sick idea that she had some obsession over me, but it— it drove me at the same time. It’s like her being on my heels at every aspect of culinary school just made me want to try even harder.”

“Maybe you painted her in that light because you knew it was a good way to keep pushing yourself.” Sydney spoke almost absentmindedly, sweeping the other side of the room. She listened to everything he said in the meantime, and though what he was telling her was a bit worrying, she was glad they got to have talks like this. Carmen often doesn’t like to bring up his past like that.

“Huh,” he paused sweeping for a moment, “yeah… yeah, maybe. Or maybe it was something else.”

Sydney wasn’t even sure he knew what he was referring to. It sounded like something entirely different, like a crush, but what kind of person treats their crushes like that?

Probably an overworked, pressured, overachieving culinary student with a dangerous need for validation. But she wasn’t about to tell him that.

“So yeah, I visited her restaurant, and… It just felt the exact same as back in New York, you know? Like she was rubbing it in my face again, and— and I know that sounds insane, or conceited, but I just can’t let it go. It’s like the thought of her is stuck to my brain like a stubborn piece of gum.” He wanted to smack himself for that stupid analogy, but what was said was said.

“So how’d you handle it?” Sydney’s head perked up, some of her braids now draping over her shoulders.

“Handle what?” Carmen became more and more uneasy the more he talked about you. Like his chest was tight, it was uncomfortable, but not in the way he was when the health inspection came by, it was different. Weirder. Unfamiliar. He didn’t like it, because he didn’t understand it.

“The talk with her.” She emptied the last bit of dust into the trash bag.

“Oh,” his mind took him back to the parking lot a month ago. The way he could almost taste the tears of your skin from how close he stood, he could hear the shakiness of your breath and the profound desperation in your voice when you apologized to him, when you really had no reason to.

If it was still so clear in his mind, then what must it be like for you?

“Carmen?” Sydney snapped him out of his oncoming train of thought.

“Yeah? Sorry, I— Uh, I don’t know it was…” He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly finding it in his best interest to look anywhere else but her face. “Bad. It was— It was bad.” He looks a bit shameful when he meets her eyes. “I fucked up. I like, went all New York boss on her. And then I just… Left.”

His colleague just stares at him for a moment. She knew what he was like when he snapped like that, but that was with his staff, people he liked. So how badly did he snap on you, a person he’d been resenting for years?

“I’m gonna go take out this trash, and uh… Head home.” She lifts the grey plastic bag she was holding. “But uh, Carm?”

“Yeah?”

“You got issues, man.” She has a bit of an awkward smile on her face, but he knows she means it. He knows she’s right. She usually is.

He nods, silently, letting her words sink in. He did have issues, everyone knew that, but most people didn’t just say it. That’s why he liked Sydney, she was so real, so honest. She was so good for the business, for the kitchen. And maybe her saying that to him was all part of grounding him in the reality of it all. Of his issues, just that they existed.

“Heard.” he says. His voice comes out raspier than he expected, like he’s struggling to say it.

“Goodnight, chef.”

“Night.”

He’d thought about what Sydney said the entire night. He does have issues, he knows that, he’s just mad at himself for letting everything get this far before seeking help. It scares him. Because it reminds him too much of Mikey. Or what he heard about him when things got bad.

He doesn’t want to make the same mistakes his brother did. Lock people out of his life just because it seems easier, because it’s better to minimize the damage than to figure out why you’re doing damage at all. And yes it’s uncomfortable, yes it’s scary, terrifying even. But he keeps being reminded of how it must feel for you.

It’s something he’d never considered before. He always thought he had you all figured out, all fake smiles and backhanded compliments to distract him. It never occurred to him to just… Ask. It was always just easier to assume. It fit his view of you and it kept him going, even if it was at the expense of ever getting to know you at all.

He’s hoping he can change that with a few text messages and a long, probably uncomfortable, talk over coffee. Just hoping, trying, that’s really all he can do. He’s well aware of how bad he is at communicating, but he has to give it a shot. For you, at least.

He stares at his phone screen for far longer than is necessary, continuously rereading the messages he’d typed. His eyes keep flicking to your contact, making sure he sent it to the right person. The only thing you two had texted about before was a time and place for him to try your new restaurant. His heart aches at the exclamation points and emojis you’d sent; you were so excited, and he drove all that excitement straight into the ground.

He closes his eyes and shuts off the phone. His chest hurts, like he’s been holding his breath the entire time. Maybe he has. You could have that effect on him, making it harder to breathe. He always wondered why he had such nervous reactions around you specifically. He always figured it had to do with your one sided rivalry, but it feels… Different. More complex.

Your eyes are finally peeled off your computer screen when numerous phone notifications alarm you. Truth be told, you’ve been trying your best to keep yourself occupied as much as possible. That usually helps when you get waves of emotions like this, keeping busy, distracting your mind from overthinking.

Ever since your last encounter with Carmen, you’ve been so on edge. Always trying to do something, anything, so you wouldn’t have to think about what happened, why he acted like that to you. Because you know if you did, you’d just start blaming yourself again, and you’d be back to square one.

Your eyebrows raise at the name of the contact. You were sure he’d blocked you, or at least deleted your number after last time. He was avoidant like that, and frankly, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to talk to you again after that anyways. Maybe it was just to drive the point home, make you feel even more worthless.

Still, you were curious. Even if it was just to cuss you out even more, at least you knew what to expect, right?

[carmen]: hey, I really want to talk to you about what happened last time.

[carmen]: well

[carmen]: I want to apologise

[carmen]: but I can’t do that like this

[carmen]: I’d much rather do it in person

[carmen]: if you’d let me

[carmen]: meet me at odette’s tomorrow around 10? coffee’s on me, I just want to talk

[carmen]: please

The last message was sent minutes later than the rest, while you were reading them. He was desperate for an answer, and though you wanted to hear him out, to talk to him, something in you felt off about the whole thing. Like he was just doing this to clear off his own guilt, only to then ditch you just like he ditched you after culinary school. Because you’re rivals, apparently. That’s what you do.

But then there’s something else in you too. The part that’s still nostalgic about New York with him. About the glances back and forth when you were timed on preparing certain things, about the way he’d stare at you when you got feedback, the ignorant bliss you lived in. When you still believed he might have liked you just a little.

That part of you takes the upper hand when you reply and take his offer. Your heart is in your throat, nerves overtaking you already and you weren’t even with him yet. He had that effect on you sometimes, making it harder to breathe.

You wondered what that meant.

Carmen sits alone at a booth, all the way at the back of the café he’d chosen. It’s rather quiet, as most Mondays are, yet at the same time, it’s so loud. Loud in the way he hears the clinking of every spoon against porcelain cups, the crinkling of a napkin and the not so subtle ticking of the clock above the entrance. 10:06. You were late.

Suddenly he's filled with more regret than he's ever felt before. He's not ready to see you again, only to be reminded of how he made you cry, and of his own tumultuous emotions and shortcomings that lead to this moment. It's surprising how fast the emotions he associates with you changed; he's not angry anymore, he's scared, guilty, nervous. He wants to see you so bad and yet he feels like you'd be better off never talking to him again.

It's too late to make a run for it when you finally walk through the door. Hair a little damp from the rain, just a bit disheveled from what he could only assume to be rushing over to the café. And that same angelic smile you offer to the barista that greets you, the same one you'd offer him every morning, whether he looked at you or not.

He had no choice but to look now.

Your smile falters into something more nervous, a little melancholic, when your eyes meet his across the café. Though you knew he was going to be there, something in you feels surprised to see him again. Maybe it’s because he isn’t yelling at you or throwing insults at your head this time. Or maybe because he’s actually looking you in the eye. Since when did he get so good at that?

You sit down across him, taking off your coat and putting your bag besides you.

“Hey.” You smile again, much more awkward this time.

“Hey.” He returns the same thin lipped smile.

It’s quiet for a few seconds. Carmen swears the whole café has gone silent in that moment, leaving the two of you to listen to the sound of your own breathing and heartrate picking up. You’re not sure where to look, not being used to being in such an intimate setting with him.

“Do you want a coffee?”

“Sorry I was late.”

You both talk over each other, and the urge to chuckle about it overtakes you. Carmen can’t help but smile as well. You seem nervous, and somehow that puts him a little more at ease. Like he’s not the only one who’s in their head about it.

“Sorry, I, uhm, yeah— I would like a coffee.” You scramble over your words. “Please.”

“Sure,” he nods, “and no worries.”

“Hm?”

“That you were late. I haven’t been here that long either.” He lied. He’d been there half an hour early, cursing himself for letting him sit along with his thoughts for that long and psyching himself out into almost leaving.

You both order and another heavy silence sits between you two. You both know why you’re there, what needs to be talked about. Yet neither of you know how to bring it up.

You’ve lived most of your lives believing this version of each other you had in your minds. Because it kept you grounded. Because it was easier. He never let you in and for the longest time, you were at peace with that. You could have a slightly distant view of who he was, your classmate, your rival. And he could do the same. Keep you out, pretend you were there to keep him on his toes, to always try to outdo him.

Those facades of each other don’t work anymore. The real world has forced you to reconcile with each other, whether you liked it or not.

Your coffee gets brought to your table, and both of you feel this urgency to say something, anything, at least.

“The pastries here are good too, if you want to get one.” He finally broke the awkward silence. He can start with talking about food, something he knows. If all else fails, resort back to that.

“I haven’t tried a pastry besides my own in a long time. Maybe I could learn a thing or two here.” You admit. He knows that feeling. He’s not nearly as adventurous with his food choices as he wants to be, but as a busy chef on the brink of a new entrepreneurship, it’s usually beef sandwiches and frozen meals.

“I think yours were better though.” He takes a sip of his coffee.

“Huh?” You look up, realizing you were avoiding eye contact by staring into your cup.

“The danish I tried at your place. It was fire.”

“Oh. Right. Thank you, we make everything from scratch.”

“I could tell.” He takes another sip. “I guess I— I kinda forgot to tell you that. In the heat of it all.” He huffs to himself. “Food was so good it made me upset.”

“Upset?” His word use frustrates you. Upset is when they forget to give you your sauce with your order. What happened back there was not upset. That was rage. Wrath. You raise an eyebrow and he realizes he said something wrong.

“Well, more than upset. Listen, I— We need to talk about what happened.” His blue eyes peer into your own. They’re almost distracting enough to avoid you noticing his fidgeting hands.

“I’m listening.” You lean back slightly in your seat. You’d played nice with Carmen all your life, given him every chance to return it. Now it was his turn to try.

"Right." Of course he has to talk. It's his fault, isn't it? He's the one who snapped-- why did he even imply you'd have to explain yourself? He runs a hand through his hair, and there he goes again, eyes darting across the café to find something to focus on as he sought out the right words. You'd almost find it endearing, how bad he is at this, if it wasn't so important to you.

"You don't do this often, do you?"

"What, like-- meeting up for coffee?"

"Talking about stuff. Your feelings and shit." You hid your slightly amused smile behind your coffee cup before taking a small sip.

"Oh. Yeah, no, I-- I don't. Not until recently." He takes a deep breath. Just like they had told him to. “I’ve been going to this therapy thing my sister recommended. S’not much, but… It’s a start. Talked about the restaurant, my brother—“

“Your brother?” Your eyebrows raise slightly.

“Yeah, my— my brother. Mikey.” He looks a bit surprised. He’s come to the shattering realization that he’s never told you anything about his personal life, ever. You don’t even know about one of the most important people in his life, his main drive. You’ve known each other for so long yet you know so little. “I never told you about him?”

“You never told me anything.” You answer curtly. “We never really… Talked, you know?”

“Yeah— yeah, you’re right. I just thought… Wow.” He smiles, more out of shock than anything. He feels so stupid. How immature is it to be feuding this much with a person who doesn’t know anything about you?

“I guess I really don’t know much about you either.” His fingers rake through his messy curls again. “Makes me feel like even more of an idiot for going off on you like that. Like I had you all figured out.”

“Yeah, that was uh... That was something." The mood shifts a little. His smile fades as soon as he sees the melancholy in your eyes return. Of course it wouldn't be that easy for you to forgive him, to feel better about all this. "You know, I never knew you thought of me like that." A small smile graces your features. Somehow it's sadder than the expression you had before.

"I mean, I knew you didn't like me. I was pretty much at peace with the fact that you were never going to like me, either. But I never thought you hated me that much." You sniffle, trying your hardest to blink away any oncoming tears. "Like your life, your entire career, would have been easier without me there at all."

His heart aches at the sight of you, all teary eyed and trying to be brave. You're much braver than him. Sadness is a much harder thing to express than anger. He's starting to figure that out more and more.

"I don't hate you." He starts. He sees the confusion contort your features, and he knows he's not making any sense. "I mean I did-- I did hate you. Or, maybe not you, just... The fucked up idea I had of you. And-- and that was on me, that was my own fault." He feels an urge to touch you; to rub your back, hold your hand, anything to comfort you. It's tearing him apart to know that he's the cause of all this.

"But why?" A single tear rolls down your cheek, leaving a wet streak on your skin in its wake. "Why did you think that about me? I-- I get that we had a little rivalry going but jesus Carmen, did you really think I spent my whole culinary school career trying to outdo you?"

"To be honest... Yeah." He feels ashamed. So ashamed. He hopes the waitress doesn't walk by and listen to any of this, see you crying, and make you feel even worse. "Cooking was always just... My thing. If I was good for anything, it would be that. So seeing you do so well at something I'd started to base my whole existence around, it made me jealous, so fucking jealous." He meets your eyes, even if it's hard. You have to know he's being sincere.

"And it's-- it's unfair, it's so unfair to you, I know, and I'm really fuckin' sorry. I'm trying to work on myself, on everything, and I hope I can prove that to you." His face has that red tint you recognize whenever he's nervous or stressed. You can tell this is taking a lot from him.

"Is that really all? You were just jealous?" Your voice is quieter, fragile almost.

"I don't know. I wanna think it's that simple but I really don't know. There's a lot I don't understand about me, or you, or us. My mind doesn't know how to react when I see you anymore I think, now that things are different." He takes a deep breath, like saying that took a physical toll on him. "You have this-- this weird effect on me, and I don't know how to cope with it. I think it was just easier to be mad at you than to be anything else."

Anger is easier to express than sadness. The easiest out of all emotions, actually. Sometimes a little too easy.

You look to the side, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. You huff out something close to a laugh, and though he’s caught off guard by it, he doesn’t mind it. Even if you’re laughing at him, at least that means you’re not crying.

“You’ve got issues Berzatto. You know that?”

“Yeah. I’ve been told.” He smiles, and it’s heartfelt this time. Not nervous, or sad, or awkward. He’s happy to see you a little more at ease.

“It’s just really crazy to me.” You trace your finger over the edge of your coffee cup as you talk. “I spent so much time in culinary school looking up to you. And then I find out you were always just trying to keep up with me.”

Carmen’s eyebrows raise a little at your words. “Looked up to me?”

“Yeah, like… Your drive, your passion, it’s so impressive. Always looking to improve, to do better, it just— it inspired me to do better too. As cheesy as that may sound.” You smiled. “S’why I opened up in Chicago, you know.”

“Really? Huh.” He leaned back in his seat.

“Because I wanted to work with you. Or for you. Either would have been fine with me.” You sigh. “I like owning my own place, but… I don’t know, for some reason I always imagined us working together.” You smiled. “Is that stupid?”

“No,” he replied quickly, “no not at all, I— I totally get that.” He’s quiet for a few seconds, and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head when he stares at you for a moment.

“I mean you’re a remarkable chef, really, like— insanely remarkable, and, well, we’re revamping the restaurant completely right now. We need people— more people, new people, and so, I was wondering— or I’ve been thinking—“ He stops himself from losing his breath from all his rambling, before he freaks you out even more than he already has.

“I want you to come work for us at the Bear.” He puts his hands together, as if he’s about to beg. “Please.”

You can almost hear yourself blinking out of confusion. There’s suddenly no more loud silences, no, the café seems dead quiet for once. All you can do is stare at him, wait for a laugh, because clearly this was a joke right? There’s no way Carmen Berzatto, chef supreme, arch nemesis of yours, would want you anywhere near him, let alone work in his own establishment.

“I’m sorry?”

He feels stupid already. You had every reason to say no. He’d been the biggest asshole in the world to you, he’d kept his distance all his life, and now he expects you to be his employee. Or, well, colleague, more so.

“I’m uh— we’re redoing the restaurant entirely. New equipment, new staff, new everything.” He swallows; the thought of everything that needed to be done arises for a moment. “We need people that work hard, who know what they’re doing and who are passionate about it. And I barely know anyone who’s better at what you do than yourself.” He pauses, waiting for you to stop him. But you don’t.

“So I’m asking if you’d work for me. With me. It won’t be anything like old days, if anything I— I need to learn from you.” He scoffs at himself. “Could take a thing or two about how to communicate with my staff.”

You smile, and he genuinely thinks you’re about to start laughing at him. You chuckle, but it’s not mean, it’s honest. Cute.

“You know, you have great timing.” You grin.

“I do?” the smile on his face reflects the hope he feels.

“One of my chefs wants to take over the place for me. Well, has been wanting to. I haven’t had an exact reason to say yes to her yet.” You shrugged. “Guess I do now.”

“…Is that you saying yes?”

“It’s definitely not me saying no.” Your eyes meet his, and there’s something between you both that’s different now. It’s not like there’s a switch that’s been flipped. It‘s more like this conversation was the turning page of a new chapter.

“I’ll think about it. I want to see it first. Maybe talk to some of your staff.” Carmen’s chest strains a little when he thinks about you interacting with Richie. Then he’s reassured when he thinks about you interacting with Sydney or Marcus. You’d fit in well, you have great feeling for people.

“Yeah— yeah, I get that. Totally. I can arrange that. Uhm, we’re renovating right now, actually, it’s all really kinda wild, but if you wanna stop by, chat with Syd, or Nat, or talk about the plans, let me know. I’m sure they’d love to talk to you.” He’s not lying, you seem like you’d get along well with them. Especially Sydney. Your thinking processes are very similar to each other. And to his.

Carmen gets the bill, even though you try to pay for it.

“It’s just a coffee, just let me get this one.”

You let him have this one, simply because you can’t argue with him after the conversation you just had. You’re in too good of a mood after his proposition too.

He walks you to your car, hands in his pockets when you reach it. It’s cold outside, and his breath comes out in visible puffs of air. His nose is a little red, but you think it looks cute.

“Thanks for coming, by the way,” he starts, “I know you didn’t have to. Like— after how I acted to you. But— But I really do appreciate that you’re givin' me a chance here.” He’d always been confused about how positive and faithful you were in people. He never thought he’d be grateful for those exact features too.

“No worries, I… I had a good time. I’m glad we talked.” The keys jingle as you fidget with them. Among them is a keychain in the shape of a cherry, he recognizes it. It reminds him of how little you’ve both changed. And how much.

“Yeah.” He sighs. Relieved, almost. “Me too. But I’ll let you leave, might wanna tell your chef the good news.”

“Good news?” You quirk an eyebrow.

“That you’re selling them the business.”

“I haven’t decided yet, Carm.” You scoff. But he can tell you have, you look too excited about it all to not have your mind made up yet. It excites him too. Scares him a bit as well, but what’s a new chapter without a bit of tension?

“Right. Sorry.” He huffs. “Just text me when you wanna head over to see the place. It’s uh… It’s a work in progress, but it’s getting somewhere.”

“I believe you. I’m looking forward to it.” You lean back against your car a little.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“See y’around?” You unlock it and walk up to the driver’s side.

“Course. Uh, don’t be a stranger.”

You grin, leaning down to get into the vehicle. “Never with you, Berzatto.”

He watches you drive off, standing in the cold for far longer than any sensible person has any business standing there. But he feels good. He feels warm.

He thinks about what you said to him before you left. You were right, you were never a stranger to him. You were always like a constant in his life; whether you were actually present or not. And even if he didn’t know that much about you, which he was insistent on changing, you were never a stranger.

Never with him.

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l0v3tast3 · 1 year

Text

here to help — spike spiegel

spike can't help but say yes when you ask him to help you with something so nicely.

✎ tags: mdni!, smut, female reader, cat girl!reader, dub-con if you squint, smoking, spike's eye wasn't the only thing experimented on (wink), pet names, spike is kind of a perv but in a hot way, very brief mentions of blood, dacryphilia, bit of a size kink, he's nice in a mean way, unsafe sex, fluff at the end

✎ word count: 3.8k (proofread this time wowie!)

✎ author's note: i know i haven't posted anything in a month oops sorry ヾ(´ ▽ ` ) ... anyways i'm back and still working on call of duty stuff for those who follow me for that! but i'm also gonna start writing for jujutsu kaisen and cowboy bebop now yippee!

masterlist

spike really, really hated sharing a wall with you right now.

being the latest addition to the bebop, the room next to spike's had been the only empty one left, and you were just so sweet. he had just grumbled a "fine" and went on with his day, thinking that you were agreeable enough to live next to.

you were quiet, certainly more-so than faye; he had reasoned with himself that that was why he said yes. not that your pointed cat ears atop your head and fluffy tail that flicked side to side and curled when you were happy was the cutest thing he'd ever seen.

you had sheepishly explained them when it was just you and him in the living room. he had asked what the deal was with "all that", and you had twiddled your thumbs in your lap and told him about the medical tests gone very wrong. he had started scolding faye and jet whenever they made jokes after that, and kept ed away from poking at you.

now, though, you were anything but quiet.

spike could hear every moan and gasped breath you uttered through the thin wall, his bed of course pressed up against it. he could hear the sounds of you desperately fingering yourself, wet noises between your voiced frustrations. you must have been soaked.

he wasn't stupid; he had figured it out pretty quick. after the first night, when faye had knocked on your door to drag you out and you said you were sick, he knew you were lying. after the second night he realized you were in heat.

this was now the third night in a row, and he was exhausted. it was hard to get any sleep with you practically crying out in his ear, making him painfully hard throughout the whole night. at least he knew now why you would disappear for a week every month you'd been here. this time, though, the bebop just had to be out of fuel, unable to get to the nearest planet with a hotel.

spike was fed up.

he was just going to go over to your door and tell you to be quiet. right? well, he didn't want to embarrass you. but you had to know he could hear you. you had to know he could hear everything, even the whines of his name that you were poorly attempting to keep quiet.

your door stood in front of him and spike was unsure of what to do, more than he had been in a long while. should he knock? just yell and hope you hear?

he was about to just turn away when the door slid open; he hadn't even realized you'd gone quiet. he just stared in shock, mouth hanging open as he processed the fact that the only thing you were wearing was one of his shirts.

"spike," you sighed, as if just seeing him gave you some kind of relief. your eyes were glazed and wet like you were on the verge of crying.

it took him several moments to recover. "you're... being loud," he finally managed to say.

"'m sorry," you muttered, looking down. "can't help it, it just hurts."

"you need some help?"

spike was just as surprised as you seemed to be by the words that had just come out, but your breathy voice, wet thighs, and having been already thinking about this for awhile won him over.

"are- are you serious?"

"wouldn't say it if i didn't mean it." he was walking forward into your doorframe, tall enough that he almost had to slouch. it made him very aware of just how small you were compared to him. "do you want my help?"

you nodded, backing up as he slid the door shut behind him and moved closer to you. when you were at the edge of your bed and couldn't back up anymore, he came close enough to cup your face with his hands and bend down until your lips were a hair's breadth apart.

"you gotta say it, sweetheart."

your hands were on his bare chest, nails almost digging in. "yes, please, need your help, spike-"

he pushed his lips into yours and you let out the sweetest moan he'd ever heard. his hands were running through your hair, down your back and to your waist and under your (his) shirt, swallowing your noises the entire time.

breaking your kiss to pull off your shirt, he marveled at the sight of you. he was laying you down on your bed and biting and licking down your body before he knew it, until he kneeled between your legs, pushing them up to get a better view.

your hands were already in his unruly hair to try and tug him to where you needed him to be, but he didn't budge. instead he brought his hand down from under your knee, each grazing touch closer to your core making you twitch.

"shit, you're so sensitive, baby," he muttered. his fingers had barely touched your clit and you were already crying out.

"please, spike, please just do something," you whimpered when his hand went back to your thigh.

"what do you want me to do, hm?"

"something, anything, please spike!" he almost felt bad when tears started welling up in your eyes again. almost.

"anything?" he echoed with a giddy smile.

he slid two fingers inside you easily. you were practically dripping wet, a damp spot already forming underneath you. he cursed again as he felt how tight you were, watching your back arch almost immediately.

"ha-a, ah! spike!"

your voice was music to his ears, a song he wanted to play on loop forever. he'd been imagining it, your whimpers and pleas, for months now. it was about time the universe paid him back.

it took less than a minute for you to cum, your body going stiff and your voice choking. spike almost came himself when he felt your pussy contracting around his fingers.

he gave you barely any time to recover before he was licking up your juices, sucking on your clit and pushing his tongue into you. you just about screamed, but you didn't push him away, only pulled him closer, one hand leaving his hair to claw at any skin you could reach.

you were already reduced to a babbling mess and he couldn't stop muttering about just how sweet and addicting you were.

"fuuuck, sweetheart," he dragged out, finally detaching himself from your clit after you'd came twice more. "can't get enough of you."

spike stood up and you whined, sitting up and trying to get his sweatpants off before he even had a chance to himself.

he choked out a moan when you started licking and sucking at his cock as soon as his pants were down, looking like you were entering the same trance he had just been in. it took every ounce of willpower he had to drag you off of him and lift you back onto the bed.

"you can do that later, angel. i'm here to help you, right?"

you seemed to forget about going down on him pretty quickly, opting instead for trying to drag the man closer as he crawled over you. he gave in to you rather easily, meeting his lips with yours again.

admittedly, he had been giving into you a lot lately. he would give you the last snack left and let you lean against him on the couch when you were tired. he would let you come with him when he split off from the group when you touched down in a new place.

and of course, everyone noticed. they saw how soft he was with you, how his stature relaxed and he slouched just a bit closer to your level when you walked into the room. and of course, they teased him relentlessly about it.

jet had even asked him once if spike thought you went into heats.

"well, she disappears for a week every month. what if that's when- ya know-"

"faye disappears all the time. so do i. besides, it's none of our business."

spike would never admit that he got off to the thought of it. and now, here he was, basically living his dreams. he couldn't wipe the grin off his face.

you whined when he started rubbing his dick over your pussy, his head bumping your clit with each grind. he found your attempts to line your hips up so he would finally fuck into you adorable; there wasn't much you could do though when he had his arms hooked under your knees and hands grabbing at your waist.

"aww, sweetheart, what's wrong?" he patronized, breaking away from kissing you. you were still grabbing at him wherever you could. "what is it? you want me to fuck you?"

"mhm, need you to, please spike- ah!"

he wasted no time pushing into you as soon as he heard your sweet voice, cursing as he slowly pressed in further and further, barely dragging his hips back before he would slide in more.

"oh, fuck, baby- so fuckin' tight, can barely fit my dick inside you- shit!"

you cried out when he finally bottomed out; it was like he was reshaping you to fit him inside. it had been so long since you had been with someone, since someone had helped you with your heat, but even then it had never felt as good as it did now.

he was about to ask if you were alright when you started begging him to move, to fuck you, to please help you. his final shred of resolve snapped before he grabbed one of your wrists as leverage to start hammering into you.

your back arched again and spike took that as an opportunity to lean down and suck on one of your nipples. he wasn't surprised when you came again already, your cunt tightening until he felt like he could barely move. your eyes rolled back and your nails dug as deep as they could into spike's back, probably drawing blood. he didn't care, though, because you looked so pretty cumming on his cock.

spike kept making you cum as much as he could until he couldn't fight off his own orgasm anymore (he was honestly impressed with himself that he'd managed to even last this long).

"where do you want me, baby? huh? where d'you want my cum?" he breathed, watching your body squirm and twitch from overstimulation.

you couldn't even answer him, feeling like he fucked your brain right out of your head. all you could think of was the pleasure overtaking your entire being, of wanting to stay like this for as long as possible.

when you didn't say anything, spike leaned down over you and left your leg on his shoulder to lightly grab your jaw.

"c'mon, angel, you gotta answer me," he panted. "you want me to cum inside you, right?"

that seemed to bring you out your haze a little bit and you nodded, ears teary and face painted a cute shade of pink. "mhm- ah- cum in- side, ah! please!" you managed.

he came with a harsh groan, bullying his dick as far into you as he could as he filled you up. you came with him one more time, your body clinging onto his, trying to keep him from pulling out.

you both stayed like that for some time, kissing slow and stealing the other's body heat. you whimpered when he pulled away and started to untangle your limbs from his, but he shushed you with another smile.

"don't worry, sweetheart. we're far from being done."

spike found out just how sensitive your extra appendages are pretty quickly, and he absolutely took advantage of it.

scratching and petting your soft ears made you melt against him, like putty in his hands. he found you're much more pliant when he does it, less whiny and more grateful.

of course, spike wasn't a complete dick, so he would take you into his room to feed both of his addictions at once. like when he was fucking you but stopped every time you were about to cum, torturing you just to see what you'd do. he had your hands tied to his headboard, keeping one hand on your stomach to pin you down and using the other to smoke a cigarette while he lazily fucked you.

"nngh, nonono- please! spike, you're bein' mean-"

he bends down over you to put out his cigarette on the bedside table, making him press deeper into you; you nearly came just from that, choking on your words.

"i'm being mean? sweetheart, i'm helping you." he cupped your face and debated internally for a second before he reached up to pet and rub your little cat ears soothingly.

your tensed limbs went slack, no longer tugging on your binds or trying to pull him closer with your legs. your wide eyes became lidded and you started nuzzling your head further into his hand.

"you asked for my help, remember? this is how i help you, baby," he cooed, and when you gave a little nod and a whimpered "mhm" he smiled. "you just gotta be a good girl and take it. can you do that?"

you nodded again. "mhm, i'll be good," you mumbled.

"good," spike said, reaching for another cigarette and leaning back up to light it. he put a hand back on your stomach and when he wasn't holding his cigarette he was petting your ears as he went back to slowly dragging his hips back and forth.

he also found out that tugging on your tail made you cum nearly instantly, and he used that until you were crying.

you were on your hands and knees on the floor with spike fucking you from behind, having to hold your hips to keep them up; he was holding your hair in a messy ponytail to make you watch it all in the floor-length mirror that was in front of you.

the curl of your tail against your back was just so cute, and having seen the effect of touching your ears, he had no hesitation in grabbing your tail lightly. your body shuddered and twitched and your back arched when you let out a loud whine.

"shit," he groaned through clenched teeth, feeling your pussy tightening around him. "you really like that, don't you angel?"

"fu-uck, mm-mm, i don'-"

he grabbed the base of your tail and tugged, and you were clawing at the blankets underneath you as you came.

"ha, why are you lying to me, baby?" spike breathed, tossing his head back as he fucked you through your orgasm. "thought you were finally being good."

he flipped you over with a pillow under your back and tried it again while he ate you out, and he was delighted to feel your cunt pulsing around his tongue. he tried it when he was just rubbing your clit, when he only had two fingers inside of you, when he was just sucking on your tits. you came every time, and each time made you try to claw your way away from him a little more. he never let you run; even if he did, he knew you would just come right back.

"one more time, baby, just one more for me," he kept saying, until you were reaching back to grab his wrist, his arm, his chest, anything to get him to let up.

"please, ple- ah, spike!" you hiccupped. which one of you was the one in heat again? "break, i need- nnh- need a break!"

he slowed down his thrusts and took his hand away from your tail, your sob turning into one of relief.

"alright, baby, we can take a break, you just gotta give me one more," he said, leaning down over you to kiss the back of your neck. you tried to shake your head, tried to say you couldn't give him anymore; it was then that you realized you definitely wouldn't be able to keep up with him if you continued this after your heat was over.

"i know you can, doin' so good for me," he just mumbled as he fucked you slower, until he finally let himself cum, of course making sure to give your tail one last squeeze. he couldn't help himself when it forced the cutest moans out of you.

he filled you with his cum over and over again, the both of you passing out for a couple of hours just to wake up and fuck all over again.

he would wake up to you sucking his dick, you would wake up to him spooning you and giving you hickies in the spaces between the ones he'd already left while he fingered you open again.

the only other time you stopped fucking is when he forced you to take a break and shower. you clung to him like a koala bear the entire way to the bathroom, fucked again in the shower, and clung to him all the way back.

during the duration of your heat, spike found himself being a lot more caring than he had been to someone in a very long time. he made sure you drank plenty of water, took you to the bathroom, made sure you ate still, dealt with your whining every second he wasn't physically touching you. in truth, he liked how much it made him feel needed.

he only ran into jet once while he quickly raided the fridge and filled up water bottles. jet came in just as he was hugging the supplies to his shirtless chest.

"spike! where the hell have you been?"

"uh... well, turns out she does go into heat," he said with a shrug and a slightly smug grin, walking past jet.

"oh, shit... wait, how do you know-" his jaw dropped when he saw spike's chest, back and arms, scratched to hell and marked with bites from your little fangs. he told faye, edward, and ein that you two were both very sick and needed to be "quarantined", counting himself lucky their bedrooms were all on the opposite side of the ship from yours.

you both stayed in your routine of fucking, sleeping, eating, and being forced to bathe for four days before your system starts calming down (spike had found himself considering the experiments done on himself more good than bad; he was so grateful he could keep up with you).

it's when you wake up with a pained groan as he's stretching out his overused muscles that he knows you're finally sobering up. as much as he loved the sex marathon, he was starting to get sore all over.

he plops back down next to you and you roll over to lay on top of him, but for the first time in days you don't start nipping at his chest and grinding against him. you just let out a little whine and go back to sleep. he can't help the little smile that spreads across his lips, and he reaches up to gently pet your ears and hair until he falls back asleep too.

you're shook awake a few hours later, blearily cracking open your eyes to see spike setting down a tray of "beef" and vegetables next to you on the bed. he gently moves your legs to sit beside you and eat his own.

"morning, sweetheart," he says when you raise your head and mumble something along the same lines back, slowly shifting onto your back and sitting up with another groan.

spike frowns a little in worry, wondering now if he had been too rough on you. it doesn't match up to your face of horror, though, when you look up and see his shirtless body.

"oh god, spike, 'm so sorry! you didn't have to- oh god," you ramble in panic, reaching out to him then retracting your hands and hiding your face in them, curling up into a ball.

spike laughs a little bit before he reaches over and gently takes your wrists in his hands to show your face to him again. "it's alright! hey, really, it's alright. i love the kind of woman who stakes her claim," he reassured with a cheesy smile.

your face goes red and you look down, embarrassed. "you didn't have to help me. i'm sorry- 'm sorry i made you do... all that."

"i seem to recall making you do a lot of things, too. very happily, too."

"well, yeah, but-"

"trust me, i enjoyed every minute of it, princess. well, except maybe having to force you into the shower. and having to spoon-feed you."

"you did not have to spoon-feed me!" you mutter indignantly, brows furrowing adorably and your tail flicking behind you.

"yes, i did," he sys, pointing his fork at you as he went back to his tray, "when you just needed to keep my dick inside you but didn't want to stop fucking yourself on it long enough to eat. had to hold you down." he acts like he's complaining, but he has a shit-eating grin on his face the entire time.

you choke on your own spit a little before huffing; before you can turn to your own food he adds on, "eat, don't make me force feed you again." you half-pout and half-glare at him, but you shovel the food into your mouth nonetheless.

once you're beyond full, you collapse back onto the bed, fully intending to go back to sleep and let your hormones rebalance on their own. you were always sore and exhausted for a day or two after your heat, but you usually slept through it anyways.

"hey." apparently, spike has other plans. "come on, we gotta take a bath." he's hauling you back into a sitting position and pulling his t-shirt over your head, which of course swallows you whole, despite all your whines and protests. "quit complaining, all you gotta do is sit in the water."

regardless of his front of acting like he was doing you a favor, he lets you cling to him again all the way to the bathroom. he washes your hair and cleans you off, makes sure the water isn't too hot for you. generally, you hate baths, but this seemed like something you could live with.

when he's toweled you dry and put you in one of his clean shirts, you sit on the counter while he finishes pulling up his sweats.

he picks you up again and as he starts walking you both back to your room, he asks, "so when did you take my shirt, anyway?"

spike feels you tense up and your cheeks get warm where they're pressed into the crook of his neck.

"i didn't take it," you squeak, "it got- it got mixed up in the laundry..."

"riiight. sure, sweetheart."

#cowboy bebop #spike spiegel #spike spiegel x reader #spike spiegel x female reader #spike spiegel x you #spike spiegel smut #cowboy bebop smut #— lilly writes! ♡

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the-kr8tor · 8 months

Note

Hello! Could I please request TTN Hobie and reader go back to Aunt Janet’s shop, when they are together again after reader comes back from LA, to buy some fabric for something that they are sewing? I would love to see her reaction of seeing them both together!

Have a lovely day/night!

🕊️anon

Yippee a TTN request!! Ly thank you! ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, talks of babies, TTN! Hobie and Reader. FLUFF

Thread the Needle series Masterlist

TTN oneshot Masterlist

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

The bell jingles as Hobie opens the door for you, strolling inside, practically skipping from all the happiness of being with him again, you wait for him to enter. He loops his arm around your waist almost immediately. The unabashed PDA would make anyone look away, but who cares? You're complete once again.

“What do you need again?” He asks, eyes roaming around, chin resting comfortably on your shoulder.

“If you stopped and actually listened to my chattering then you won't have to ask.” You say teasingly, a smirk playing on your lips.

“If you stopped snogging me while talking then I won't be so distracted, hmm?” Hobie rubs his chin on your shoulder in an effort to tickle you.

“It's not my fault you keep coming on to me.” Giggling, he scrunches up your face with his whole palm over your entire face, wiggling it playfully.

“If you two don't stop being all sweet there'll be ants all over my shop.” A familiar voice pipes up from behind the counter, making you pause and take off Hobie's hand from your face. “‘ello you two. Welcome back, sweetheart.”

“Auntie Janet!” You squeal, feet bouncing to get to her. Hugging her over the counter, you hold her at arm's length, grinning from ear to ear.

You've noticed the new glasses on her, she has aged a bit since you last saw each other but there's still that twinkle in her eyes whenever she smiles.

“Let me get a good look at you!” You awkwardly twirl around at her behest. She smiles widely.

“So?” You ask timidly.

“Good,” Janet nods approvingly. “You've taken care of yourself well? Ate? Went on walks?”

“I did, don't worry.”

“He taking good care of you then?” She gestures towards Hobie who peruses the shelves.

“He is. Too good in fact, he barely lets me out of his sight.” You joke. “I'm guessing he missed me a lot.”

Janet leans closer to you, whispering. “Don't tell him I told you this but he's a regular customer here.”

“He is?” You ask, feigning ignorance. You know of his vigilante activities, and unfortunately those activities usually end up with his suit cut to pieces or mangled up. It's the main reason why you're visiting, and to also visit Janet of course.

Your heart pounds loudly at the thought of Janet figuring out his secret identity.

“That he is, I think he's making his own clothes. That's how much he misses you. You know, do the activities you like so he feels like you're there with him”

You breathe a sigh of relief, not knowing what you would've said to her if she guessed correctly on why he needs so much fabric. With a giddy smile, you like her conclusion better.

“I'll– put that information to good use.” You stutter,

She nods, “use it wisely.” Winking, she straightens out when Hobie plops a roll of scaly green fabric on the counter.

“Oh is this for Terry?” You ask, hand automatically reaching for his jean back pocket.

Janet looks at you confused.

“Yeah, for patching him up.”

“Wait, do you have a kid? How long have you been home, Y/N?” She looks at you like you've betrayed her.

Before you could explain, Hobie takes the opportunity to tease the old woman.

He pats your stomach, “yeah, she had him a month ago and he's growing very fast, we need new clothes for him.”

You stifle a laugh, you'd tell her eventually but you want to see how Hobie's bit goes.

“A baby boy?!” She points at Hobie menacingly. “She gave birth a month ago and you're already letting her walk around?” Janet comes around the counter, cane at the ready. “Not to mention the fact you already knocked her up the minute she came back home!” She points at Hobie with her cane. “What kind of–”

Hobie shields himself with his arms, laughing loudly while Janet chastises him. Their voices echo out in the shop.

You watch Hobie defend himself from an old woman, smiling, your laughs match Hobie's. Maybe you'll tell Janet the truth once she calms down or else you might get the cane too.

#request done #🕊️ anon #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #the kr8tor's creations #hobie brown #atsv fanfiction #atsv x reader #atsv fanfic #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown x you #spider punk x fem!reader #spider punk x you #ttn! hobie and reader #ttn oneshot #hobie fluff #fanfic

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lemonlurkrr · 5 months

Note

lemon i hope you know (if you didn't already from your notification boom solely from me) that your prev hero au designs did something to me. fundamentally altered my brain somehow. im literally stuffing them in my mouth how did you do that

HHEELLLOOOO THIS WAS A LOVELY NOTIFICATION BOMB TO WAKE UP TO, HOLDING ALL THESE TAGS NEAR AND DEAR TO MY HEART

as for how (i'm seizing this as an opportunity to share a bunch of process work):

there was a butt load of trial and error

From what I can remember (this all started 3 years ago holy shit,,,) I worked on Kevin's design first. The only 2 ref images I've found are included in the screenshot, but I'm pretty sure I was looking at those in addition to all of the other Impa+Sheik designs from the games, OG Hyrule Warriors concept art for Impa+Sheik, and the Sheikah pages from BOTW's Creating A Champion.

here's Link's stuff and YIPPEE I HAVE HIS REFERENCE IMAGES 🙌🙌

(BIG BIGG shoutout to @/historyofhyrule btw for archiving so much concept art and everything from all of the zelda games. None of this brainrot would've been possible without them.)

butt load of trial and error cont. especially for the colour of his scarf omg (I was looking at some of the hero's garb colour variants from OG Hyrule Warriors, and was conscious of the two other scarf wearing Links in Zelda Not Canon)

I can't find Zelda's inspo/ref images either but I remember referencing Griffith and Casca from Berserk, Kushana from Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind, Ashei from TP, some of the OG Hyrule Warriors concept art for Princess Zelda, and of course some of the other canon Zelda designs (ALttP, TP, HW, OoT, BOTW).

I'd say Kushana was and still is the biggest inspo for Prev!Zelda, even personality wise I find myself looking back to her and how she was in the Nausicaa manga and movie.

final design thoughts: I really REALLY wanted the three of them to look cohesive with each other SO,

I always carried over screenshots of the other members of the trio onto their individual canvases to make sure that any changes I made to one design didn't stand out too much from the others,

I'm also pretty sure I worked on Link and Zelda's design simultaneously, or at least flipped back and forth between them a LOT when doing their armour (I wanted it to be evident that they were produced by the same smiths of the royal family yknowww),

and finally I made sure there were a couple of shared colours between their colour palettes

Thankee Thankee for reading this far and I hope y'all enjoyed my process stuff :))!!!

#lemonreplyrr #lemondoodlrr #RRRAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH #WOOOOOOOOO #it was actually so much fun looking back through the files and all the layers (i wish past me had named them though oh my god)#no promises atm BUT!!!!! with school finished and the LOZ brainrot slowly trickling back in I hope to make some more #prev hero au #stuff over the summer #i miss drawing these guys #and the design process is so much fun I reeealllyyy want to start designing the other characters I had planned for the AU #designing au stuff is like this insane puzzle where there isn't really? a wrong answer? but I'm cherry picking all of the pieces myself #from canon and outside sources and it's so satisfying when they all come together at the end #anyways #RAAAHHHH BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK

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bwabys-scenarios · 1 year

Text

Reunited

Part 22

Illumi x Reader x ??????

Part 21

Part 23

taglist: @tsukilover11 @mercyboluthecrazychicken @sxyriii @merinfawleygoestohogwarts @shidoni-san @living4tomrua

if you want to be tagged in the next update, comment a red heart ❤️ and make sure your blog can be mentioned/tagged!!

warnings: angst, also this is short and a bit rushed, but the next few chapters will be a lot of fun I promise!! Also not proof read so 😭😭🙏🙏 grumpy friend reveal next chapter!! YIPPEE

Illumi tapped away at the dining room table, anxiously glancing at (Name) ever so often. Not even her hand in his could quell his anxieties.

“So, how was your little date, Illumi?”

“Wasn’t a date, mother.”

The air was tense, (Name) caught in the middle of all of it. The longer dinner went on, the more agitated Illumi was getting.

Silva cleared his throat and stood, the table turning their attention to him.

“I’m sure Kikyo informed you all that I had an announcement to make tonight. It’s been over a month since (Name) joined our home, and she has been carefully monitored the entire time.”

Now (Name) was tense. Monitored the entire time? She desperately hoped that was an over exaggeration. Illumi squeezed her hand, a scowl apparent on his face.

“Every report back has been… amazing. Her improvements in her nen ability alone is nothing to scoff at. Factor in her newfound fighting skills and you have yourself a woman with great potential.”

Illumi’s grip on her hand tightened, to the point (Name) had to pull away. His eyes were narrowed, staring his father down.

“What is your point, Father?”

Silva chuckled, waving his hand at Illumi dismissively. “Ever impatient when it comes to that girl, eh, Illumi? I’ll get straight to the point.”

He grinned, an intense aura settling over the dinner table.

“I am proposing that (Name) stay here with us more permanently. As Illumi’s bride, to be exact.”

Illumi slammed his fist on the table, cracking the wood. “Father! Have I not told you that she and I are nothing but friends?”

“You have, but you can’t hide the way you look at her, son. You should be happy that I’m allowing you to wed the woman you love.”

Kikyo sensed the conversation was becoming hostile, so she stood alongside her husband. “Illumi, sweetheart, don’t be stubborn. You’re obviously infatuated with this girl, why n-“

“Enough. I’ll hear nothing more of this.” He began to leave, but was stopped by Silva.

“Illumi.” His warned, Illumi stopping in his tracks. “I had Amane and Tsubone breech the topic to (Name), and from what I heard she was not entirely against the idea.”

Illumi turned to look at (Name) who was hiding her flustered expression behind her hands. Was she really okay with marrying him? Part of him wanted to run over and propose now, but the other, nastier side of him needed control over the situation.

“Oh really? What, did they say we’d take care of her family or something? Seriously, I didn’t take you as the type to marry someone for their wealth (Name).”

Illumi spat those words out without really thinking, rolling his eyes. “Did they say I loved you? That I told them you would be my future bride? I only said that so the butlers wouldn’t poison your food. Honestly why would I ever-“

He stopped when he noticed (Name) slamming the dining room hall door behind her. The sound of her storming away echoed down the halls, Illumi’s family staring at him.

“You’re terrible at lying when it comes to her, Illumi.” Zeno stated, crossing his arms. “And now you’ve gone and upset your loved one.”

Kalluto stood, rushing out of the door to follow after (Name), sending a glare in his brother’s direction.

“My, what cruel words to say to such a lovely young lady, Master Illumi.”

Tsubone appeared by Silva’s side, tutting softly.

“Silence, Tsubone. You should be glad your head is still intact.”

Illumi’s bloodlust filled the room, the man ripping the dining room door off his hinges as he left. Tomorrow, he would attempt to talk with (Name) and apologize, but tonight, he needed to let off some steam.

Good thing he was an assassin.

“He’s made things so much more complicated.” Kikyo lamented, sighing behind her fan.

“No matter. She will be his bride, whether they like it or not. It’s only a matter of time.”

Silva sat back down at the dinner table, continuing his meal. “Once a Zoldyck, always a Zoldyck. The minute Illumi called her his future bride, her fate was sealed.”

——————

Kalluto approached (Name)’s door, listening to her from behind it. He could hear her crying, the sound of sniffling filling the hallway.

He knocked, the door creaking open when he did. “(Name)? It’s Kalluto.”

(Name) sat on her bed, throwing clothing into a suitcase. Tears cascaded down her tears as she packed, sniffling every so often as she did.

“What are you doing?”

(Name) looked up from her task, quickly wiping away her tears. “Oh, Kalluto. Sorry you had to see me like this. I’m just packing. Don’t want to take up anymore of Illumi’s previous resources.”

She slammed the suitcase shut, zipping it before placing it on the floor. “You’re leaving? But (Name), it’s the middle of the night.”

He grabbed her hand gently, the girl looking away. She was angry and upset, not able to think clearly. “I don’t care. I can’t stand being here another second. I don’t understand why Illumi would say such a thing to me!”

She wrapped her arms around herself, tears falling from her eyes. Kalluto held his hand to his chest, unsure of what to say.

Sure, he knew that Illumi was in love with her and didn’t mean the things that he said, but she didn’t. How would he soothe her aching heart?

“… Illumi didn’t mean it. He… has trouble expressing himself.”

(Name) scowled, grabbing her phone and pocketing it. “I don’t really care if he meant it or not, he doesn’t get to talk to me like that. I’m not after his money, he should know that by now, and even implying that is nasty.”

She patted Kalluto’s shoulder, smiling. “I’m not mad at you, and I want you to have this.” She slipped him a piece of paper with her number on it. “If you ever get lonely or need help, this is my number. I’ll see you later.”

Before she could leave her room, Kalluto called out to her.

“Wait! (Name), please wait to leave until the morning! I’ll accompany you, I promise. Just…”

He held onto her sleeve, not daring to look at her face, if he did, he might cry.

“It’s dangerous. I know you’re angry and upset, but… please think about your safety. People know you’re connected to the Zoldycks now, so you have to be careful.”

(Name) stopped, letting go of her suitcase and pulling Kalluto into a hug. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about that. I must of worried you, huh?”

He nodded against his shoulder, unable to speak. If he did, his voice would break.

“I’ll be up early in the morning to leave. Meet me in the courtyard at 6 am, okay?”

She didn’t leave any room for discussion, hiding him out of her room so she could get some much needed sleep.

(Name) had such a nice day, and for it to end so terribly made her chest hurt. She knew Illumi was lying, that he didn’t actually think she was after his money, but that didn’t make the words hurt any less. If he couldn’t be honest about how he felt about her, then she didn’t need to stick around.

‘I don’t think I can stop being his friend, I care about him too much, but I need time to think. To sort out my own feelings.’

She laid down on her pillow, a few stray tears staining her pillowcase. “Stupid Illumi…”

—————

Illumi arrived home the following afternoon, covered in blood. He took a quick shower, slowly calming down as the water soothed his sore muscles.

He’d been such an idiot last night. His father had said (Name) hadn’t been completely against the thoughts of marriage or dating, why did he have to say that to her? Not once did he ever think she only wanted him for his wealth. She already hated receiving small gifts from him, why would she marry him for such purposes?

He excited the shower, throwing on a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a tank top. Would she even talk to him right now? She’d been pretty upset last night.

‘No matter. She’ll have to talk with me eventually. I just have to try.’

Illumi climbed the stairs, knocking on her door. It creaked open, revealing an empty room.

“Hmm. She must be in the training hall.” He said aloud, turning on his heels.

She wasn’t in the training hall, but Kalluto was. His younger brother looked up from his workout to give Illumi a cold look.

“Hello brother. What brings you here?”

Illumi frowned. Kalluto had never looked at him like that before. “I’m looking for (Name). Where is she?”

Kalluto set down the weights he’d been lifting, crossing his legs. “She left.”

Illumi raised an eyebrow. “Left? What, did she want to go to town?”

Kalluto sighed, standing. “No, she’s gone. She packed up last night and left for home early this morning. She’s long gone by now.”

Illumi was frozen in place, his eyes widening at thsi revelation. He’d expected her to be angry, but for her to leave with such short notice wasn’t something he was expecting. A wave of nausea washed over him, his nerves getting the better of him.

“… who opened the gate for her?”

Kalluto crossed his arms. “Grandfather did.”

Illumi was gone, the only thing showing he’d been there the lingering bloodlust in the air.

——————

“Grandfather.”

Zeno peered over his shoulder to see Illumi standing in the doorway, gripping the frame so hard it brown under the pressure. “Yes, Illumi?”

“Why the hell did you open the gate for (Name)? You understand how dangerous it is for her to be without an escort while connected to us.”

Zeno looked back forward, out the window surveying the manor. “She wanted to leave, and I will not keep her against her will.”

Illumi frowned. “I don’t give a shit about what she wants right now, I care about her safety.”

“Illumi.”

The dark haired assassin froze in place. “You promised her she could leave whenever she want, and we Zoldycks do not break promises.”

“But-“

“Do not worry, Illumi. I’ve taken some precautions in regards to her safety. Only an idiot would hurt her, knowing she is the future bride of a Zoldyck. We have a tracking device on her that tracks her location and health, so if anything happens you will be the first to know.”

Although he was still angry, Illumi had to admit his grandfather had gone above and beyond to quell his concerns.

He left his grandfather, storming back to (Name)’s room. He checked the room, looking over every detail.

On her desk was a note, folded neatly with a sticker keeping it together. He recognized that sticker, (Name) had written this note.

He broke the sticker seal, opening the note.

Dear Illumi,

Your words last night really hurt me. I thought by now you’d know me better than to assume I’d only marry for money, but I guess I was wrong.

If you can’t handle you feelings, that’s fine, but don’t step all over mine. I truly care for you, so much that it pains me to have to leave like this.

I won’t stop being your friend, that would hurt me too much to bear, but I will be distancing myself from you until I can handle being in your presence. If I saw you now, I wouldn’t be able to control myself. Even writing this now is hard, the tears won’t stop coming.

Please, try and figure out how you feel before contacting me again. I can’t handle the whiplash of your tender touch and harsh words. It’s too much to bear.

I will come visit you sometime after September, so please have everything sorted out by then. I’m patient, but I won’t forever.

Regards, (Name)

Illumi read over the note several times, his eyes scanning the text like it was his own holy scripture.

He set the note back on her desk, sitting on her bed and burying himself in her comforter. He’d gotten too used to seeing her when he returned home, the lack of her presence unnerving him.

Illumi let a few tears fall, joining (Name)’s on her tear stained pillow. He’d made her cry again, and in his mind that was an unforgivable crime.

If anyone but him had been the cause of her tears, he’d have killed them where they stood. Why did he get to escape with little consequences, the girl still seeing him as a friend despite his harsh words?

“(Name)… I promise, I’ll be better. I… I really love you.” He whispered, taking in her scent still lingering on her bedding.

Even though his tears, he still felt angry. Angry at himself for pushing her away, but even more angry at her for leaving. But under all that anger and sadness was a layer of anxiety bubbling to the surface.

She wasn’t there. He couldn’t keep a watchful eye over her, or make sure she was safe. Illumi could only hope she would return to him when she was ready.

He didn’t have much of a choice, and having so little control over the matter was killing him.

Kalluto listened to him from down the hall, the younger Zoldyck sharing his older brother’s keen hearing. He wished his brother could say those words to (Name), frowning deeply. Maybe if he’d been brave enough to share his true feelings, she would have stayed, maybe even become a Zoldyck happily.

Now Kalluto was afraid (Name) wouldn’t have any choice in the matter. His parents had already set their eyes on her, and they weren’t the type to compromise. He just hoped his brother would hold himself accountable for his actions, because (Name) would be affected either way.

—————

A few days passed, and (Name) had arrived home. She lived in a small cabin a few miles out of her hometown, having moved a few hours away from her family when she turned 19,

The small plot of land had plenty of room for several fruit trees and a chicken coop. A small river stretched across her property, fish seen through the clear water.

It had been several months since she’d been home, and (Name) was ready to relax by herself.

(Name) plopped down on her couch, opening her phone to check her messages. She’d texted her friends her change in location to keep them informed.

Pretty Boy🫶: I see. Thank you for informing me.

Silly<3: stay safe!

Grumpy Pants: Don’t forget to lock back door. Always leave it unlocked

(Name) giggled at her friends responses.

She set her phone down and turned on the TV, allowing herself to lose herself in whatever came on.

As the months dragged on, (Name) found herself packing her suitcase again. It was a week until she had to meet her friend in York New, and to say she was excited was an understatement.

She’d been busying herself all summer with picking fruit and preparing jam to make enough money to stay in York New comfortably.

It was hard work, and she often went without breaks all day long, but she’d saved up enough to be able to have some fun.

She’d also taken her first mission as a hunter.

It wasn’t anything special, just collecting some samples of a fungus and returning it to a Fungus Collector, but they paid well. She’d sent all of her Hunter earnings to her family, so she didn’t have to worry about them during her trip.

(Name) mulled over what clothing she could pack, glancing between her several dresses and pants. The air was beginning to chill, meaning no more tank tops and shorts.

She wished her friend could have met with her during the summer, but he’d been busy. (Name) usually never complained, but the weather had been so nice, and she would have enjoyed swimming with him.

He didn’t like swimming, but would watch over her protectively as she splashed in the water, sliding down the small hill when she would slip on a river rock and plunge into the depths. Even though he disliked getting wet, he would jump in to pull her to safety if he even thought she was in danger.

He didn’t like admitting this though, and would scold her heavily after she finished coughing up the river water.

(Name) didn’t want to think about the scolding she would get if he found out how Illumi had treated her. Though, I guess Illumi would get it worse. Her friend didn’t exactly like her hanging out with men, so Illumi was kind of screwed from the beginning. Maybe he’d been right.

“Hmm, if I start thinking about him I’ll cry.”

Illumi had called her several times, asking her to come home. She rejected him each time. Her heart was still hurting, and it wasn’t going to heal just because HE wanted it to. She needed time, but he was rather impatient.

He’d been angry that she didn’t tell him she was going on her mission beforehand, stating he would have gone with her.

“Well that’s why I didn’t tell you. I’m not helpless, I can defend myself.”

(Name) couldn’t help but feel cold towards him. He always felt like he needed to have some semblance of control over her, and it was annoying. After that conversation Illumi hadn’t talked with her again. It had been a few weeks, and although she was still angry with him, the girl worried for his well being.

“I know he’s an assassin and he’s busy, but I wish he would at least tell me when he’s going to go no contact. I miss meeting up with him.”

(Name) paused, her own words confusing her. ‘Meeting up with him? What did that mean. I don’t even wanna see his face right now.’

She mulled over these thoughts as she finished packing, zipping her suitcase together with a sigh.

“Never mind. I need to call the pet sitter…”

—————

(Name) had made plans to spend the remaining week before York New with Gon and Killua. Killua was bad at hiding his excitement over her visit, saying he didn’t care if she came or not.

As (Name) exited the boat to whale island, a woman with pretty red hair waved to her, grabbing (Name)’s attention.

“Hello, you must be (Name)! I’m Mito, Gon’s aunt.” the woman called out, offering (Name) her hand.

“Oh, it’s nice to meet you! You raised such a sweet boy. Gon helped us all a lot during the exam, to say he caught a lot of people’s attention would be an understatement.”

Mito beamed, her eyes crinkling from her smile. (Name) looked around, raising an eyebrow.

“Speaking of the boys, where are they?”

“Oh, you know boys, they’re off exploring in the wilderness. Gon asked me to greet you. More often than not he spends his time among wildlife, not people.” Mito mused, leading (Name) away from the dock.

Their home was nice. The interior was tidy, with fresh flowers placed in vases near the windows.

(Name) sat at the small table, sipping on a cup of tea Mito had prepared. It was nearing dark, the two women having been talking all day.

Mito had some choice words to say about Illumi, making (Name) laugh. She didn’t think the woman had it in her to curse so vulgarly!

“Aunt Mito, we’re-“

Gon and Killua, covered in dirt and leaves, stared from the doorway, their jaws agape.

“(Name)!”

The two jumped into the air, landing on the unsuspecting girl. She yelped at the feeling of their weight on her, causing her chair to tip back.

They crashed onto the floor, all three laughing. “Did you two miss me that much?”

——————

They all had a lot of catching up to do, so the three travelled to the guest room she’d be staying in to talk.

“(Name), have you learned nen yet?” Killua asked. He couldn’t help feeling partially worried for the girl if she didn’t.

She answered by preforming Ren, causing the two to jump. “Yeah, I’ve actually known about nen since a few days after the exam.”

Killua scowled. “And you didn’t tell us? Rude!”

They told her about their experiences at Heavens Arena, (Name) making a disgusted face at the mention of Hisoka. “Yuck, you had to fight him of all people? Gon you have the worst luck.”

The boy chuckled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “It was a good learning experience. Now I know more than I did before.”

(Name) hummed, looking at the window. “Just uh… try to avoid that guy if you can. He gives off MAJOR creeper vibes.”

“Oh trust me I’m not trying to be buddy buddy with him.” Killua stated, rolling his eyes.

She shared her experience, Killua wincing at his brother’s words. “Yikes, that was harsh even for Illumi. What was he thinking.”

(Name) crossed her arms, pulling her pillow close to her chest. “I’m not sure, but he better get his head on straight. I won’t see him until he’s got his feelings sorted out.”

This was the (Name) that Killua remembered. Stubborn, frustratingly so, yet kind and forgiving. Too forgiving if you asked him, Illumi should be grateful he’d fallen in love with (Name), because there weren’t many people willing to put up with his behavior.

“Have you had any luck with finding your childhood friend?” Gon asked, watching her. She shook her head, sighing.

“No. My parents won’t give me any more information because they say it’s more dangerous to know. I bet they’re glad I have partial amnesia.” She said with a pout, looking out the window.

“All I know is that I used to live in Padokea, so I was hoping I might see him in town, but no dice. I don’t know if I’d be able to recognize him by sight, though.”

Killua wanted to agree, because she’d already found her childhood friend, Illumi, but he couldn’t. Although he wanted (Name) to remember him too, part of him agreed that knowing was dangerous. She had already caught his parents eye, and if she wasn’t careful it could end up getting her hurt.

The three ate dinner together and hung out until bedtime, all retreating to their separate rooms, promising to talk about their plans for York New in the morning.

(Name) spent her days on Whale Island dipping into rivers and helping Mito with the housework. It was still warm there, (Name) thoroughly enjoying her time.

The three had made their plans for York New, (Name) saying they’d have to separate the evening of September 1st.

She didn’t know how much she’d be able to see them, depending on what plans her grumpy friend had for her. They didn’t meet up often, but when they did it was fun. He didn’t ever tell her what he had planned for them, only saying when and where to meet.

As the week ended, the three boarded a boat off of whale island, the three waving at Mito as they sailed off.

—————

Kurapika glanced at his phone, seeing (Name) had texted him.

(Name): We’ll be in York New tomorrow. When you get a chance, come see me! I’m making some more treats!

He smiled at her message, unable to keep himself from blushing. Melody glanced at the boy.

“You’re in love.”

Kurapika looks up, confused. “In love? What are you talking about?”

Melody smiled, twirling her fingers in the air to the sound of unheard music.

“Your heart is singing, racing faster in a love song. You just really care about the person you were talking to.”

Kurapika could barely contain his beating heart, the muscle thumping against his ribs painfully. “You are misreading things. I don’t have the time or energy to be in love. I could never subject a possible partner to my dangerous life style.”

Even as he spoke, he glanced at the friendship bracelet on his wrist, a gift (Name) had sent him for his birthday. It was pink and girly, but he just didn’t feel tight without it on. It was hidden by his sleeve, so no harm no foul, right?

“Hmm. I think everyone falls in love sometimes. It may fade away with time, but your first love will always be in your heart.”

Kurapika nodded, hoping she would leave the subject be. It was already hard enough to acknowledge that he had feelings for (Name), much less talk about it with a stranger.

But a part of Kurapika imagined a world where him and (Name) could be happily in love, living together, perhaps even having children. He quickly shook this thought from his head.

“Let’s get down to business.”

——————

Strawberries: I’m landing in York New now!! Text me when you’re ready to meet up <3

Her grumpy friend texted back a quick response, turning away from the group surrounding him to hide his phone.

Grumpy Pants: Alright. Be safe, and do not explore too much. Dangerous city.

He sent the message, sliding his phone back in his pocket before continuing his journey. He would be arriving by nightfall, so he didn’t know if he’d be able to see her that day. It depended on what the boss had planned for them.

“Who were you texting?”

The man glanced at the pink haired woman beside him, before looking ahead. “None of your business, Machi.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “So secretive. What, is it your girlfriend or something?”

The man froze and unfroze so fast that a normal person wouldn’t be able to catch it, but Machi did. She said nothing, but snickered to herself.

—————

The three friends parted ways sooner than (Name) had expected. It didn’t bother her much, though, because she had some work to do.

(Name) rented out a small condo for her stay. She got a pretty decent deal on it. It was small, but would suit her needs.

The kitchen was the real reason she’d chosen the condo. (Name) needed a kitchen to prepare a surprise for her friend and his comrades. She’d already met a few of them, and really wanted to make a good impression on the rest.

The few she’d met had all been big eaters, devouring any food she sat in front of them, so she assumed the rest of them would have a healthy appetite too.

Because of this, (Name) had her work cut out for her.

Before she reached her condo, she picked up some baking essentials, and a big wicker basket. (Name) wanted to have a picnic, hopefully somewhere pretty so she could take pictures with her friend. She didn’t get a lot of chances to, the only photos of the two on her phone being blurry or focused mostly on her.

As she began to cook, she felt her phone buzz in her pocket, opening it.

Grumpy Pants: Can’t meet tonight. Won’t get there until night. Dangerous for you

She stared at the message for a full minute, pouting.

Strawberries: you know I’m trained in nen and martial arts now, right? I can defend myself!!

He was quick to respond.

Grumpy Pants: Not strong enough. Bad people, hurt you easy

She sighed and continued baking. Around 3 pm, she had finally finished her baked goods, packing them and a few jars of jelly and jam into her large basket. It was quite heavy, the old (Name) wouldn’t have been able to carry it alone, but she was stronger now.

(Name) threw on a white sundress and pink cardigan, slipping on some frilly white socks and black Mary Janes. Her friend might not be in town before night fall, but she was sure his comrades would be.

If (Name) explored town, she might be able to sense one of the auras of the comrades she met and follow it to their location. She gave herself a pat on the back for her idea, walking out of her condo and locking the door behind her.

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amoristt · 2 months

Text

Grazing the Fire | VI

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reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

warnings: language

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-----

The bat is heavy and demanding in your hands. Your mind races behind your eyes- a million concerns shrouding you. What was he going to have you do? You’d seen Nathan do some pretty heinous shit when he was bored, so what exactly constituted fun for him? You roll the bat in your palms, scanning over the chips and cracks in the weathered wood. A part of you worried that this was going to be some sort of hit-man crap- like now that you’d ventured into the next tier of his friendship pyramid he was going to bring you into his bad dealings. He turns to look at you and the sun catches on the expensive camera nestled in his hands.

All you can offer is a lopsided, unsure smile.

He guides you deep into the heart of that junkyard, a maze chock full of broken down appliances and soda cans dotted with pellet gun holes. For the first time since summer had begun to settle into shrill fall, you were grateful for the chillness in the air. God, it would have stunk, all those mounds of trash just baking in the heat.

A sharp, popping echo of glass breaking has you leaping nearly a whole foot in the air, and you whip around with a harsh glare at the source of the sound. Of course, of course it’s Nathan. He’d set his camera down on a tipped over fridge and made quick work to whip brown beer bottles at the ground. With every toss they explode into glittering shards, and you twitch every single time.

“Would you chill?” He laughs pointedly. “There’s no out here but us.”

“Have I ever been chill?” You grunt, feeling the full weight of the bat in your hands once more.

“Guess not. Tweaker.” He hauls a microwave up from the ground and settles it on a chest freezer. “Maybe you should take some of that stress out on his bad boy.” He pats it, the metal echoing hollowly, after settling his camera down on an upside down box off to the side. Away from all the danger.

You swallow. “You want me to hit it?”

“Fucking duh.”

It takes a long moment for you to consider it. Shifting your weight, feeling your heart rate increase. You never really were the destructive type.

“Hello?” He waves until your eyes follow his hand. “Come on, hit it! You’ll feel great.”

The microwave's door hangs limply, threatening to fall at any moment. “I fail to see how this is going to make all my troubles go away.”

Nathan couldn’t roll his eyes any harder than he had in that instant. In a moment’s notice, he’s beside you, and then he’s behind you, close enough you can feel his chest clasping over your back. Your instinct is hard- shoving yourself forward despite the raging heat that instantly rose to your cheeks. To your surprise, Nathan doesn’t allow you. He’s quicker than you, grabbing the bat and keeping you in place. Trapped. You’re once more reminded of his height, the inches he has over you. And how those little noodle arms of his hide some serious power.

“Dude, what the hell,” You manage with a surprisingly even voice.

“Like this.” He drags your arms high over head. There’s a moment where they linger above your head. Your shirt rides up just high enough to feel the breeze over your naval.

He breathes in, you breathe in.

He crashes the bat down onto the microwave with you in tow.

Wood meets metal in an explosive bang and you can feel the exact moment the appliance gives way from underneath the powerful swing. The door clatters to the ground, bolts spring out from every corner, a hefty dent plays right down the center and caves in the empty middle. The vibrations rattle you to your core and sink into your bones, adrenaline greeting every nerve. You blink at the sight of the destruction.

When he laughs, deep and full, you do too.

“See what I’m talking about!” He cheers, and you do. He’s moving like he’s on air now, light on his feet as he backs away and motions towards the microwave once again. “Do it again! Come on, imagine it’s fucken- uhhh,” He taps his forehead, brows drawn together. “Fucken- you know! Those two bitches!”

“April and May?” You blink at him, still feeling laughter dancing on your tongue. When he nods, you chuckle. “I don’t wanna kill them, Nathan.”

“Okay then,” He rubs his face before it lights up suddenly. “Oh! Those two fucks that stole your book of whatever the fuck that whole thing was!”

An unpleasant memory drags through the forefront of your mind. Trying to relax at the fountain, having your very private artbook ripped from your hands and tossed around like it was nothing. The nasty things they said to you. Yeah- you could definitely give those two a whack. Or three.

You’re rearing up and crashing that bat back down before your mind can catch up with your body. More bolts rattle out of the metal frame, and when you swing once more, you relish in the way it cracks under the force. The microwave teeters off the edge before it plummets to the dirt and damn near shatters from the abuse. Coils, shreds of plastic and metal are confetti around its remains.

Nathan whistles when he peeks over the edge at the sight.

“I always knew you had that in you. Maybe you didn’t need me that day after all.”

He says it so offhandedly. Quick, mindless. But it rocks you in a strange way that’s hard to place. Mostly because you definitely did need Nathan that day. And also because for just a second you’re launched back to the first moment you saw a glimpse of something other than just vitriolic hate in him. He had stood between you and those two boneheads, unmoving and unwavering.

All for you. Even though you didn’t realize it at the time.

“Give it.” He says, arms outstretched. You offer the bat with just the slightest reluctance and he takes it, gets to work without a second thought. z

He nails the tipped over fridge, drives dents into the thick metal over and over again until it craters like the moon. He howls, he laughs like it’s a performance. You step back when he picks up more beer bottles from the ground and lines them up on the fridge, struggling to stand them upright on the dipping surface. When they’re set and ready to go, he swings, hard, and glass launches in all directions as he tears through the line.

“That’s what I’m fucking talking about!” He cheers. He tosses you the bat and it slams into your chest before you manage to catch it. While you’re getting your bearings back, he’s stacking more bottles. “Your turn.”

You feel those similar nerves rising your chest, unignorably and bubbling, but you step up to the plate anyways. Those slotted eyes follow your every move, all the way from you rearing back and to the very moment you swing with everything you’ve got.

When you miss, you feel the air leave your lungs. The bat glides right above them, just merely an inch away, but a miss nonetheless. Oh, how Nathan laughs at you. He doubles over and everything, chest heaving with every breath. You cringe so hard it feels like you could die.

“Keep laughing and I’m gonna hit you next!”

“Go on, killer.” He motions for the bottles once more, snickering. While you get into position, you can hear him faintly chuckling to himself, likely replaying the moment over and over again in his head.

Running for redemption, you put your back into your swing once more. The bat collides with the bottles so satisfyingly it makes you shiver. It glides through the line like they’re nothing, and the impact sends bursting sprays of glass everywhere the eye could see. It feels so good- feels right deep in your chest. Your shoulders are loose, your heart is light. You laugh and you grin at the man before you like you’d known him your entire life.

And he grins right back with visible pride. A mentor, a guide to your unmannerly behavior.

“Okay, I see what you mean now.” Your voice is fast, breathy. “That’s fucking awesome.”

“That’s nothing, light work.” Nathan rummages through his pockets and pulls out a red and white box. He draws a cigarette out, settles it in between his fingers, lights it like a professional. He draws in a captivating breath before it leaves him in a plume of gray.

He reaches out, offers it to you. Though you hesitate, you ultimately decline.

But you do make a mental note of the day Nathan Prescott tried to share his precious cigarettes with you, a lowly no one in the eyes of Blackwell Academy. There’s something beautiful in the moment, the way the sun catches and glitters off the mounds of shattered glass and broken metal. The clouds dragging over the vibrant sun and the breeze swaying through the many piles of forgotten trash and leaves that were beginning to fade from a true green to a mellow yellow. You may as well have been on top of the world.

Nathan must have felt it too. He plucks his camera up from the box he’d settled it on, routinely boots it up with its hundreds of buttons and takes tasteful snapshots of the evidence of your fun. It prints, see’s daylight for just a moment before he’s shoving it into his back pocket without even sparing a glance. That’s how you knew he was the real deal- he didn’t even have to check. Just knew that it was a good one. A keeper.

The early afternoon draws on just the same. You both work your way deeper into the thick of the junkyard until the piles of garbage are tall enough to box you in, leaving a path of broken glass and metallic shrapnel in your wake. You’re only stopped when you see train tracks yards away, cutting a sharp boundary between the heaping trash piles and green, lush grass. Little ways before the tracks a ramshackle shed-like structure stands with holey walls and what may as well have been a tin roof. Nathan doesn’t pause before he approaches it like you do. Doesn’t have to take in the sight, really absorb the atmosphere. You wonder how many times he’d been in this very spot wasting the day away.

Neon graffiti demands your attention when you’re close enough to see it, cigarettes and crumpled blunt buds seeding the perimeter. A bottle of Jack Daniels rests against the wall, half empty. Nathan drags a puff from his cigarette and toes it with his black shoes, rolls it over and watches the contents spill out with a less than amused expression. The smoke climbs the air hypnotizingly and you watch what you can before it disappears entirely.

“I haven't been here in years.” He breathes. His voice is low, mellow. Lost in thought and memories. He nudges a snuffed out cigarette on the ground partially buried in dirt. “Before Vic and all the parties and the Vortex Club shit I used to come out here and just chill out.”

You lean the bat on your shoulder, nodding, imagining him all those years ago long before you met him. Before he came the menace on site that was Nathan Prescott. You wondered how he presented himself back then- softer, or perhaps just quieter. A subtle anger that had only really started to fester. He steps into the shed and you follow without a second thought, join him when he leans his boney back against the brick wall and slides down. The interior is overstimulating- dirty, haphazardly decorated with the most college-like shit you’d ever seen. A dart board, stolen road signs, a disgustingly bright yellow tapestry with an elephant etched into the fabric. Streaks of light beam through the gaps of the roof and shine down on a small coffee table.

You eye the vulgar messages written in black marker while Nathan leans his head back against the wall, huffing out a breath of smoke that makes your nose twitch. Once again, he offers the now half smoked cigarette out to you.

This time you accept. He doesn't hide the way his lips tug into a smile. The cigarette feels uncannily heavy between your fingers, beckoning you. Your chest feels tight, anxiety rising under your skin for some reason.

“I used to come out here when my dad would chew my ass out.” He rubs his face with the flat palms of his hands, eyes unfocused. “Fucking prick. This one time he made me take this stupid ass role in this stupid ass play and I didn’t even wanna be in and I totally blew that shit. Just fucked up all my lines right on show night. Man, he let me have it.”

You feel your breath stuck in your chest at the sudden venting. Venting about his father, no less. It was sudden, unwarranted. He was opening up to you all on his own without prompting.

“What happened?” The cigarette still burns, a red glowing halo.

He shrugs, tosses a rock from the floor and bounces it off the wall across the room mindlessly. “I don’t know. I didn’t even want to be there so when I saw all those people just staring at me- I don’t know. They were laughing at me and I just totally froze up.”

You could picture it if you really tried. Nathan, younger and anxious, locked up on stage with a sea of eyes all glued to him. Muscle memory and rehearsed lines vanishing in the blink of an eye. Pity grows in your gut.

Pity, and understanding. Your own memories of being younger, up on stage in front of countless people watching your every move flare up in your mind. Your mother was raised in pageantry and made damn sure you would be the same despite your complaints.

“I can’t imagine you in a play.” You admit quietly. He snorts.

“I couldn’t either. But that doesn’t matter, does it?” He huffs. “Always pushing me into shit I don’t want to do because I'm a Prescott and it’s apparently my job. He even made me sign up for the football and get this-” He turns to face you with a harsh expression. “I didn’t fucking cut it!”

You tilt your head. “Didn’t cut it?”

“Nope! Didn’t fucking make tryouts. But thank god my dad was there to buy my way in, right?”

“You couldn’t say no?” You ask, even though you already know the answer. The picture he’d painted of his father was growing clearer by the second.

“I said no probably a thousand times. Still joined.”

Your heart falls for him, sinks into your stomach as his walls visibly come down around him. He’s bare, vulnerable.

“My mom always made me enter beauty pageants as a kid.” You blurt with a dry throat. “I uh-... I remember being up on stage with a face full of makeup feeling uglier than sin. Bunch of grown ass adults judging every micro movement I made. Really did a number on how I see myself now.”

“You ever win?” He asks.

You stare into the ever burning cigarette. “No.”

“Never?”

You shake your head. “Never. My mom stopped enrolling me after I almost threw up on stage.” He raises a brow, and you sigh. “I had the flu and she made me go up anyway. Show had to go on. But… She was done after that. Never even really wanted to talk about it anymore, either. I feel like I really disappointed her but at least it was over, I guess.”

Nathan stares into his lap. After a beat of silence, he says, “My sister used to be into all that Little Miss America shit.”

Your view of him and his world grows a little wider. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

He nods dully. “Yeah. She’s out in Brazil. Got sick of my dad and went to go find herself or some shit.” His voice is tense, sarcastic with just a hint of something deeper. Hurt.

“Do you still talk to her?”

“Sometimes.” He bites at his lip. “She talks to me, but-... I don’t know. She always wants me to get into her self-help crap and it’s just a bunch of bullshit.”

You shift your weight. “Not even interested in trying?”

He scoffs. “If my shrink can’t even figure my shit out, what the fuck is Brazil gonna’ do for me?”

“Getting away from your dad.” You answer bluntly, and he grimaces like he knew that’s what was coming. “Getting away from all this pointless shit.”

“Well if I was gonna’ bounce it wouldn’t be there.”

“Where would you go?”

Nathan looks at you. Though it’s quick, fleeting, you see something in his eyes. Reflection. Wonder, even. Then he’s back to stone and shoving your question away with a half-assed shrug.

Before you can open your mouth to press a little harder, keep that same energy he’d been so kind to offer, he’s knitting his brows and staring at the cigarette you’d kept so safe and unsmoked in your fingers. He sighs. “You gonna’ smoke that or just let it burn?”

You jump a little. For a moment, you’d entirely forgotten it was there. For such a little stick of paper and herb, it felt awfully intimidating in your grasp. The smoke teased your senses, made your eyes water just a little. With a small, anxious swallow, you let out a soft breath.

Fuck it, you think to yourself.

You suck at the end and watch the red halo burn into a rush of red as thick smoke fills your mouth. Blowing the smoke out into the cramped room, you cock your head. No coughing, no ache in your chest. Just the rough taste of tobacco. Not what you’d been expecting in the slightest.

Nathan laughs at you.

“What?” You ask, knitting your brows together.

“You have to actually smoke it, you know.” He snickers. “Like, breathe it in.”

You frown, cheeks reddening. “I just did.”

“No, you have to breathe it. Into your lungs.”

So, you try again. A little less nervy this time. You drag the cigarette up to your lips and suck, feeling the same flood of smoke fill your mouth. But, this time, you breathe into your waiting lungs, expecting it to be just the same as before. Oh, how wrong you were.

The very instant you heave in that breath, the smoke assaults your lungs and you’re sent into an instant coughing fit. It burns, it feels like it shreds your chest and throat, heaving coughs striking you as you struggle to get in another breath of air. Bursts of gray sputter from your lips like a broken tail pipe. Every breath hurts and your eyes water, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. For a moment, it feels as though you’d never get your breath back.

A flash of white blinds you for a second, another sense grabbing your attention. The mechanical sound of his camera reaches you as he prints a picture and shakes it to develop.

“You fucker-” You struggle to speak, gasping for air. “T-Throw it Away-!”

Nathan just plucks the cigarette from your fingers, pockets the picture and laughs even as you shake your head. “Gotta make sure we keep the memory!”

“I feel like this is a blackmail moment.” You manage. You could only imagine what the picture looked like- you in all your virgin-lunged glory, red faced, puffy cheeks with billows of smoke entombing you.

You’re still steadying your breath when Nathan plucks the cigarette from your fingers and draws in an effortless hit. It’s like he’s doing it to tease you- straight faced and lax meanwhile you were pawing away the tears in your eyes with heavy lungs. The settling never comes, your breath never fully returns from its shaky state, and you can’t help but wonder if it’s due to the hide-out being now chock full of thick, swirling gray. It takes a lot to ignore his snickering when you’re bounding off your ass and heading for the door.

Cold air hits you like a bolt and slices through the assault in your chest. Finally, finally you suck in a full breath of precious air. The door swings open, then shut, and Nathan’s beside you once more.

“Gonna’ make it?” He asks without bothering to hide the snark in his tone.

“I think so.”

“How’s it feel to lose your cig virginity?” He asks, grinning slyly.

“It feels like lung cancer.” You answer flatly.

Nathan shrugs. “It gets easier.”

You’re about to answer, but you’re stopped at the sudden bellowing song of a train's horn. It echoes from the distance, grabs both of your attention. A train barrels past through the valley of the trash, only mere yards away. It scares you for only a moment before you’re enamored in the colossal machine. Rocks and pebbles bounce to life as it hauls past.

“Sweet,” You say breathlessly, watching metal and graffiti blur by. “I knew the tracks were close, but I didn’t realize it cuts right through here.”

Something draws you closer, and you follow it like a moth to flame. Eventually you’re so close, daring to inch a few feet away, the colossal beast howling in your ears.

The wind picks your hair and clothes up, flutters it around you and has you closing your eyes as it rips past. It’s like nothing you’d ever felt before- a certain ring of adrenaline. You don’t notice it when Nathan snaps yet another unsuspecting photo of you, but you do notice the bullseye of the camera staring right back at you when you open your eyes. You also notice the expression on Nathan- one you hadn’t seen yet. Focused, and yet, softer than that. Fondness, almost. All aimed directly at you. It’s when he realizes you’re looking that you physically see his edges reharden. He straightens his back and blinks at you.

“Another picture?” You shout over the deafening noise.

“Can’t waste a good opportunity.” He calls back, very of matter of factly, but you see the way he swipes the picture from his camera and drinks the sight in. You can tell the shot must have been a good one with the satisfied nod he gives subconsciously.

The train is gone just as quickly as it came. It bellows in the distance as it disappears, taking the serene moment with it. Suddenly, once more, the world grows silent.

“How do I look?” You reach out to grab the picture but he’s quick to swipe it from your grasp, rears back and crams it in his pocket. A frown draws over your lips.

“Like shit,” He snarks. “That’s going on a christmas card for sure.”

You’d hoped he’d give you a passing glance given you were the subject but clearly he had no intentions of that, the photo long since disappearing in his jacket with the ongoing collection of pictures he’d snapped so far. It eats at you, in a way. Worries you. You knew his snark- surely you couldn’t look that bad. But…

What if you truly did look awful? You were never a fan of having your photo taken- always felt so awkward and out of place. So forced. You hated the idea of existing there in his pocket, or potentially in some binder, forever ugly and immortalized.

But then you remind yourself how he’d gazed at the picture with such softness, like it was perfect from top to bottom. A certain passing glance of appreciation you never knew you craved.

Birds sing overheard, the clouds lazily draft by the sun just enough for a chill to creep up your spine. For a lingering moment, the two of you just stare off into the endless blue. But then that moment too, passes. You grow cold- you clutch your arms and goosebumps ride a shiver that tingles its way up your spine.

“I’m going back in.” You say. Nathan perks up, haloed by his cigarette’s trail of smoke.

Despite the brick walls, the hide-out offers little warmth, but it’s enough. While you linger, he finds his spot once more wordlessly, languidly falls back against the wall and slides down until he’s nestled in his spot like he’d done it a million times before. He probably has, now that you think about it. He’d probably spent years in that exact spot, drawing on gritty walls and smoking the whole plot out. It makes you think about him and his past, what was once a blank canvas in your mind slowly adorning strokes of color and painting the picture that was Nathan Prescott. He draws in a hit of his cigarette and tips his head back to sigh it back out. You wished, in that moment, you had a camera of your own. You want this version of him to stay.

It sort of does, in a way. For that day at least.

Because time drew on just like that- tossing bottles at the rubbly ground to see if they’d break or bounce, Nathan burning through his sticks of tobacco and you refusing with every passing offer. The sun hangs heavy on invisible strings and lowers to the treeline, peaks through the splintered roof and stripes gold along his pale skin. You both talk about nothing and everything. At one point, you make a joke, and he laughs. Not a snarky, bitter laugh. Real, deep in his chest. A hearty sound that lanced through you like lightning and settled in your gut with a truly pitted realization: you’d give anything to hear more of that.

You’re both so enthralled in each other's presence that you barely register the way the sky had melted from a bright blue, into a purple and red haze glowing hot over the horizon. Crickets sing in place of the birds, a crisp breeze picks up once more, reminds you that it’s getting late. Though it pains you, you’re the first to call it a day by standing up and stretching your arms high overhead. You don’t miss the way Nathan’s shoulders slump just a little- just enough when you grab the bat and hoist it over your shoulders. He’s reluctant, doesn’t move until you nudge his foot with your own, and even then he moves so slowly you can’t help but wonder if he’s stalling.

“Got places to be?” He grunts, standing and grabbing his camera.

“Sure do.” You follow his saunter out of the hide-out. “In my room, in bed.”

“Seriously? It’s barely even 8.”

“Gives me more time to think of why I ditched class today.”

Nathan gives you a sideways glance, guiding you through the junkyard. “I got one. It’s called not giving a shit.”

Easy to say when you don’t have to worry about your future. You think. But then, you kick yourself mentally, because you know that’s not true. You know he worries- now more than ever. You press your lips into a tight line all the way to Nathan’s truck. Always the gentleman, the boy opens the door for you and motions for you to hop in.

His driving is just as reckless back as it is on the way to the junkyard, giving you the urge to grab the handle on the door to brace yourself. The camera in your lap is heavy and you can’t help but want to fidget with it. So, naturally, you do. You can’t help picking it up and pawing at it like an uncultured beast.

“Break it, you buy it.” He says nonchalantly, and you cringe. Thing probably costs more than your life was worth.

Upclose, you can see just how many buttons and dials cover all the settings. It feels more like a computer than a camera, the high technology of it making you worry the slightest mistake would have it glitching out in your hands. It makes sense- of course Sean Prescott would ensure Nathan had nothing but the best. Or maybe, Nathan had bought it himself with his old, old money. It probably wasn’t even a splurge, just a simple staple of their lifestyle.

You glance over at him, the pompous heir. He’s drawn another cigarette and it rests between his lips, left arm slung out the window. Your eyes follow the shape of him, his broad shoulders down to his right hand wrapped around the steering wheel. The way the sun graces the outline of him captivates you. This time, you do have a camera.

“How do you work this?” You ask, pressing a random button. The camera lights to life in your hands.

Nathan, without looking over at you, says, “You press the button, that’s how.”

“Awesome.” You can see him through the little digital screen. He looked beautiful, picture perfect. The ocean makes a wonderful landscape. Your finger dances over the countless buttons, and then, click. The camera shutters and in the blink of an eye Nathan glares at you so sharply you wonder if it gave him whiplash. All his attention is ripped from the road and funnels onto you and that damned camera. It spits out a photo and drops into your lap.

“What the fuck,” He huffs, swipes hands on the steering wheel and swipes at the picture. “Don’t fuck around with that thing!”

You pull the picture away from his grabbing hand, grinning. “Nope! This one’s all mine!”

“It’s my camera, dipshit.”

“Too bad. Wanna trade? You can give up the one of me smoking.”

“That one’s mine, too. Now hand it over.

You pretend to give it some thought. Let him marinade while you hold the picture just barely out of his wiry grasp.

“I’ve given it some thought, and, well…” You sigh dramatically. “No.”

“You fucking bitch.” He shakes his head and grits his teeth. “What for? Huh? Gonna show it off to all your little friends?”

You open your mouth to retort, but then you stop for a beat.

Friends.

“First of all, what friends?” You scoff. “Second of all, it’s a good photo! You should be thanking me. I even got Arcadia Bay in the background. It’s gorgeous.”

“Gorgeous.” Nathan rolls his eyes. “Where? Behind all the drug dealers and phony ass hipsters?

“Nathan, you’re a drug dealer.”

He eyes you. “Still stands.”

Your eyes fall, voice softening. “Arcadia Bay is pretty.”

You don’t see it, but he tosses his attention to the water spanning broad over the evening horizon. “I guess the water’s not too bad.” He admits. It’s enough to perk you up, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

By the time he turns off the coastal road to something more winding, it’s well past curfew. In the forefront you see the looming building of Blackwell return to your vision. Your stomach sinks just a little realizing the day truly was coming to an end. He turns off to the dorms and nearly whips into the parking lot before he slams the breaks, white knuckling the steering wheel. You lurch forward in your seat at the sudden stop- grabbing hard onto the camera so it can’t go plundering to your feet.

“Dude! What?” You huff.

“Madison- that fucking freak!” Nathan sneers with narrowed eyes. You glance over the stretching parking lot and feel a pit settle in your gut at the sight of Madison standing at the boys dorm entrance, arms crossed and standing tall as ever. You knew exactly what he was looking for, and it was sitting right beside you.

“Fuck, we’re way past curfew. He’s gonna ream us.” You murmur.

Nathan chews at his lip, drills his foot onto the gas and speeds past the boys dorm and towards the girls. “If he’s gonna stalk my ass, at least be subtle about it. Fuck it. I’ll just drop you off and crash at some friends.”

“Stay at mine.” You’re blurting out the words before you can even stop yourself. So quick it shocks you.

“What now?” He turns his entire body to you, seemingly just as surprised.

You nervously fidget with your fingers, swallowing hard and scrambling for a way to explain yourself that didn’t show your obvious desperation. “What, do I not fit the ‘some friend’ criteria?”

“You’re inviting me in?” He raises a brow. “Last time you couldn’t get me out fast enough.”

Last time. You remember it in flashes- being backed into the corner of your own dorm and witnessing first hand Nathan’s flashes of raging emotions. Feeling the full brunt of him box you in, nowhere to go. You remembered how terrifying he has been.

And how exhilarating it had felt.

You swipe your tongue over your lips. “I’ve slept in your room how many times now? I’d feel like kind of a piece of shit if I didn’t offer you this solid.”

Nathan eyes you suspiciously, a look you’ve come quite familiar with. But then it softens. “I mean, if you insist. Better not get all weird on me, though. No drinks, and minute I start feeling dizzy it’s over.”

“Jesus christ.” You grunt with a sharp eye roll, masking your relief. “Now why the hell would I need to do all that?”

“I dunno. I don’t know what weird shit you’ve got going on there.”

“Homework and self loathing.”

Nathan snickers. “Then honestly, I think I prefer the roofies.”

You shove his arm and he laughs again, pulls into a parking space in the far corner of the lot and rolls the windows shut. Quick thoughts pester at you, poke at your brain and bounce off your thick dome of a skull.

What if someone sees him? There were already so many rumors floating through the narrow half of Blackwell, your name echoed and drug through the mud with every passing day. It was new to you- a strange form of popularity. It made you want to bury your head, go back to the days before college where you were a proper nobody with nothing to offer to anyone except a few sarcastic zingers here and there from the back of the class. It was easier back than.

You chew at your lip in thought.

It was strange to have your own name tossed back at you from total strangers. Back in highschool you worked hard to withhold a reputation that was held deep below the radar. Quiet, unintrusive. Nothing to see or hear. The lack of attention was lonely, sure, but it was worth it when you saw what happened to the few friends you had with louder prescenses. There was safety in the isolation. You’d witnessed vulgar names scribbled on their lockers, their papers smacked from their hands in the hallways. Always had to watch over their backs simply because they had a voice and the heart to do something with it. Despite the raging seas behind your eyes, you kept yourself so at bay that you lacked any depth at all to the observing eye.

But, from your very core, you were nothing if not a bitter, repressed spectator.

So now you had no idea how to navigate these murky waters. If not for Nathan, you’d be lost floating in the void that was the first stages of social suicide. Outcast from your friend group, a vicious sexual rumor. To know it was all founded on lies made you want to tear out your hair.

But, you didn’t. You barely even barked let alone bit and then you let Nathan handle it- and he did it with ease. Vindictive, impulsive and brazen ease. You knew it the day you saw him fighting out in the school's parking lot, and you still knew it now: He was a force to be reckoned with.

And you were sitting in his truck, inviting him into your room. And he accepted.

So maybe, truly, nothing else mattered but that.

You watch Nathan mindlessly as he pulls his keys from the ignition and leans on the steering wheel before he grabs a small shoulder bag from his back seat. After fishing the pictures out from his pocket, he tosses them in the bag alongside his camera.

The trip to your dorm went smoother than you’d thought. You’d guided him to the far side of the building where your trusty window remained open, barely open enough to notice but the perfect amount of room for you to wiggle your fingers into the opening and haul it up. You crawled in, dragged Nathan and his lanky limbs through, and made your way to your room. To your shock. Nathan took the lead. Led the path to your own room and leaned on the frame waiting for you like he’d done it a million times before.

The moment you unlocked the door, he was shoving inside with no hesitation as if he owned the place. He takes in the state of your room, immediately judging you. There was an unmade bed, and a few posters on the wall. A TV mounted on a shitty little coffee table against the wall across from your bed and a small computer desk that held your cheap laptop in its wooden hands. A pile of clothes rests in a tipped over hamper, a cluster of papers scatter over a nightstand, some laying discarded on the floor. You own a single stuffed animal and it sits in proud display among your crumpled blankets- a little brown teddy.

What a mess.

“Wow.” He says flatly. You swallow.

“I haven't had a lot of time to clean.” You say quickly. “And to be honest, I’ve been fucking exhausted.”

“It’s better than last time. Less crackden and more of a… Slightly better crackden.” He grins. “A crack home.”

The scoff that leaves you doesn't go unnoticed by him.

Nathan makes quick work to start sorting through nearly everything you owned after he sets his bag down at the edge of your bed. The first victim was your nightstand, to which he rudely ripped the drawer open and began pawing through the random items you'd tossed in. Half empty packs of gum and crumpled receipts were swiped to the side to reveal even more junk. Next was your computer- the mouse being jostled to spring your screen to life.

Luckily there wasn’t anything too tantalizing- just the home screen of Blackwell's online site and a few youtube tabs. In that moment you realized this was simply a taste of your own medicine- payback for you dragging his glove box open and sorting through his shit like you didn’t have a care in the word. Turns out, he was right. It is pretty violating.

There’s a moment where you almost stop him when he plucks the stuffed bear from your bed. Your hand moves at your side just barely, just enough for him to see.

“What are you, five?” He snorts.

You frown.

“It’s, uh… My grandpa’s. He gave it to me before he died, and I didn’t feel right tossing it.”

It’s shocking when Nathan pauses at that. You fully expected him to laugh at you, toss it to the floor, do something just so painfully and evilly him, but… He doesn’t. He looks at you with a blank expression and then eyes the bear, gives it a subtle squeeze before he’s tossing it back on the blankets without a word. The mental image of his definitely existing heart grows larger in your mind. The canvas in your mind earns another stroke of vibrant color.

“Well now, what do we have here?” A stack of movies by the tv catches his eyes. He fingers through the stack, which is comprised of a few horror movies and early 2000’s comfort shows. “Didn’t know you were into slashers.”

You shrug. “You never asked.”

Before you know it, he’s standing and tossing a DVD case onto the bed. Scream 2.

“Put it on.” He damn near demands, and if you weren’t already a little excited at getting some movie-time in, you’d have wanted to smack him upside the head. But, alas. Scream 2 is too good of a movie to pick a fight over, and you also don’t know if you’ll get this chance with him again. You’re almost positive that watching a movie with Nathan isn’t exactly a commonplace in Aracdia Bay.

While you’re getting the movie started on the tv, he’s busy behind you making sure to get nice and comfortable in your bed. He even takes his shoes off and tucks himself under the blankets, and you try to not zero-in on the fact that he’s getting his outside clothes all over your washed sheets. He probably wouldn't even give a shit if you did fuss. The animal.

But you can’t deny the buzzing thrill you feel under your skin when you settle in beside him, keeping plenty of room for jesus. This was different then the other times you’d slept side by side. This was something… Softer. Something more intimate in a way that almost made you so nervous your stomach was churning. This time, relaxing together, enjoying a nice movie and warm blankets, it was all intentional and wanted. No anger, no bitterness.

But then you remember how, even with all that, you’d woken up with him wrapped so tightly around you that one morning it was hard to breathe. His fingers pressed into your skin, his face nuzzled so perfectly in the crook of your neck. The morning sun warmed your skin. It felt like how a painting looked- so perfect in every little detail. It almost felt like a dream.

With each passing adventure, you grew to accept that somehow life was determined to draw you two together, even despite the different worlds you lived in. Though the battle was hard, you felt like you were winning, worlds bleeding into each other just right.

You’d made it out of the woods and into that beautiful, scorching sun.

The movie starts, and you both seem to let yourself melt into it.

-----

You hadn’t realized you fell asleep until a loud, shrill scream rips you from your slumber.

Your stomach plummets into your guts, heart thrashing in your chest, damn sure that someone must be getting sliced and diced somewhere in the halls. But instead of a gruesome blood bath seeping under the crack of your door, you’re instead met with your TV screen. The color floods the room, basking it in disorienting waves of red as some poor woman on screen chopped to bits. You rub at your eyes and wipe away the dreariness before you start rummaging through the blankets to find the remote. You don’t find the remote, but you do find Nathan.

He’s out cold, passed the hell out on his back with his arm thrown over his face and everything. The steady rise and fall of his chest helps your heart rate fall back down to where it belongs, your nerves beginning to settle. You peek around the edge of the bed, wondering if maybe it’d toppled onto the floor. Once again you find something else- this time in the shape of a bag. It lays on its side, items scattered about haphazardly. You realize you must have kicked his bag off during your minor fit, so begrudgingly you drag the warm blankets from your legs and let yourself sink to the floor.

The thought of rummaging through Nathan’s personal goods doesn’t even strike you until you pick up a plastic bottle, bright orange with a little white label. Diazepam. Another little bottle catches your eye and you grab it, too, without shame. Risperidone. You hadn’t heard of the second, but you had heard of the first. A sedative, you were pretty sure. Your heart falls just a little even though you knew you shouldn’t be shocked. This was Nathan, afterall. Dude has problems. You knew he was seeing a psychiatrist, but for some reason you hadn’t considered him medicating himself. You wondered if it was his choice or his dad’s, a desperate attempt to regain control over his son.

You tuck the bottles into his bag and try to ignore the heavy feeling in your chest. The rest of the contents were to be expected- his keys, some receipts, a little baggy with a few unlabeled pills and then of course his trusty cigarettes. You’re about to zip the bag back up when something slightly under the bed catches your eyes.

Photos. Quite a few of them too- a small pile of outside shots. The first few were shattered glass and the unfortunate remains of the day you two had had. And then two more.

The first polaroid is exactly what you were afraid of: you, wrapped in a veil of smoke, eyes squeezed shut all red-faced and sputtering. It was everything you had been afraid of since the moment you saw the flash go off. You’re so tempted to tear it to shreds but you refrain- long enough to take note of the other picture. It’s heavy in your fingers, eyes scanning over the image before you.

It punches the air from your lungs.

It’s you, again. But it was different this time. Your hair flows around your head like a crown, the train blurring by grabbing leaves and wind. Your clothes ruffle as it drags by. The photo he’d taken at the junkyard. It was perfect, the composition just right and the timing impeccable. And you. You never considered yourself on the pretty side of the scale, but you couldn’t stop the wonder that struck you staring down at that picture.

You never looked so beautiful. You looked so alive.

Your eyes travel up the side of the bed, where you peek at Nathan, this man you let into your room and welcomed into your bed. The stark contrasts of him between things not exactly inherently good or bad. His eye for perfection, his urges to destroy. Between the drugs and the outlandish ability to make you see yourself as something worth photographing for the first time in your life. How he cursed at you with every other word but insisted on keeping this little laminated version of you close to him.

The garrish, raging fire inside of him with a soft, blue core.

Quickly, you tuck the photos back into the bag. Even the ugly one, that suddenly doesn't seem so ugly anymore. You pick the bag up and set it on the nightstand, revealing the remote. You can’t help but laugh. It really did feel like the world was aligning to draw you closer to him- like not falling in love with him wasn’t an option anymore.

The bed is more than welcoming when you crawl back in. He’s so warm beside you, and even warmer when he subconsciously wraps himself around you. Your heart stutters, breath caught in your throat. It’s just like the other morning in his dorm, caged against him like a willing bird. He hums breaths onto your neck. His heart beats rhythmically against your back. It’s perfect, and you sink into him like you were meant for it. Like two little puzzle pieces with frayed edges planted into the wrong sets.

Like even if the words hadn’t been said, you were his lover. His girl.

#life is strange #nathan prescott #lis nathan prescott #nathan prescott x reader #grazing the fire

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gleamglows · 23 days

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hellooooo!! my love for wolverine and hugh jackman have forcibly brought me back to tumblr with an urge to write. so here i am starting from scratch.

you can find my old blog here if you’re interested, i couldn’t bring myself to delete anything. those fics are my babies <3

tagging to find new people to follow!! i haven’t been on tumblr in years but i am itching to start writing and yapping again. yippee!!

#wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #wolverine #logan howlett #hugh jackman

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moose-muffin · 8 months

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im new here (hiya from the hazbin tag lol) but if you do character + character requests than please PLEASE gimmie a lee!vox with ler!alastor 🙏🙏🙏hear me out... the two are fighting and al (sHocKINglY) wins out, and vox expects to like.. be beaten into the ground as a result, but nope!! he gets tickled!!! to tears!!!! smthn smthn he wasnt smilin and, yk, youre never fully dressed w/o a smile!!!

/nf to do tho ty for reading!!! <3<3

OMG OMG HELLO WELCOME I HOPE YOURE DOING GOOD YIPPEE

SO FUN FACT I WAS VERY LIKE NEUTRAL TO RADIOSTATIC BUT TONIGHT HAS BEEN (HAHAH GET IT) AN ADVENTURE AND THIS ROAD HAS BEEN SUCH A BLAST <3 THOSE TWO FUCKERS ARE SO INSTIGATIVE ITS CRAZY.

I KNOWWWW THIS AS A FIC WOULD GO C R A Z Y!!!!! IDK IF ANYONE HERE WRITE FOR VOX AND ALASTOR AND PERHAPS DOES COMMISSIONS BUT I WILL PAY!!!! PLEASE HIT ME UP OR ILL PROBABLY GO TAKE A PEAK FOR MYSELF TMR <3 AS LONG AS THATS OK ANON. (I WILL ABSOLUTELY LET IT BE POSTED AS LONG AS THE AUTHOR IS OK WITH IT WHICH USUALLY THEY ARE!!!!) IM GONNA TAKE SOME CREATIVE LIBERTIES AS I TYPICALLY DO HEADCANONS!

IM NOT USUALLY A CHARACTER + CHARACTER GIRLY SO BEAR WITH ME BUT I WILL DO MY VERY BEST!!!! HOPEFULLY I CAN DO THIS JUSTICE! IT WILL BE RANDOM HCS THAT ARE UNRELATED TOO. MY BRAIN IS A MESSY PLACE HWBSHWDBD

OK SO LIKE I KINDA MENTIONED, THEY BOTH LOOOOVE TO JUST GET UNDER PEOPLES SKIN. LOVE IT!!! ESPECIALLY ALASTOR. HES SUCH AN ASS (affectionate)

I’D EVEN SAY HE’S KIND OF AN INSTIGATIVE LER???? BRO IS DOING EVERYTHING IN HIS POWER TO GET TO TICKLE VOX LIKEEE IDK IF THAT EVEN MAKES SENSE BUT I KNOW ITS TRUE. HE WILL CASUALLY WIGGLE HIS FINGERS IN CONVERSATION, TWEAK HIS RIBS FROM BEHIND, LITTLE THINGS LIKE THAT. WELL THEYRE NOT LITTLE. ESPECIALLY NOT TO VOX WHO IS SO FLUSTERED BY IT… ITS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING

BUT! VOX HAS STARTED TO FIGURE IT OUT. AS HE IS ALSO ONE WHO LOVEEES TO GET UNDER SKIN, HE DECIDES HE’LL DO EVERYTHING TO TRIGGER A LER MOOD IN ALASTOR. IF HE CAN TELL HE ALREADY HAS ONE, HE FINDS WAYS TO SUBTLY (WE ALL KNOW HE ISNT SUBTLE THOUGH) LEAVE A SPOT UNPROTECTED. BUT ALASTOR DOESNT WANT TO GIVE HIM THE SATISFACTION!!! HE TRIES SO HARD TO NOT GIVE IN TO VOX BC HE “WANTED TO BE THE ONE IN CONTROL” AND NOW HE ISNT AND HES #PISSED

ALSO VOX ABSOLUTELY IS HORRIFIED OF VULNERABILITY. YET HE IS ABLE TO MOVE PAST IT WITH ALASTOR HERE. SOMEHOW HE ISNT AS WORRIED ANYMORE. MAYBE HE KNOWS ALASTOR WILL REACT. HE LOVES THAT SO VERY MUCH.

AS FOR THE SPECIFIC PROMPT, OH THAT IS SO REAL!!!! ABSOLUTELY YES!!!

I DONT WRITE GOOD ROMANCE BUT LIKE UGH IMAGINE IT NOW. Alastor definitely just got himself to the V’s tower and was planning on fucking with Vox only to see he had already been kinda pissed off. Alastor wouldn’t be as satisfied if he knew he didn’t cause the frustration. He realized he could just stir the pot again. Problem solved, and what better way to solve it than using his weakness against him.. being tickled.

I’m being a little silly but genuinely Vox is so ticklish. Like most ticklish person in hell would go to him if it were an official title. That’s what I’m thinking. That being said, Alastor also knows how quickly he could get him to crumble… but wouldn’t it be more fun to take it slow.

Vox notices his presence almost immediately. He tried to ignore it as he feels his face get warm. He can’t fuck this up. He takes a deep breath and turns around. “Why hello, Alastor! What brings you to our building this evening?” He said in a semi newcaster voice. He wasn’t ready to drop the act

“Well Vox, I came here for a reason of my own but then I walked by your office and you looked so sad!” He began to walk closer to Vox. “You know, t they say you’re never fully dressed without a smile!”

Vox let out a laugh that was quite clearly untruthful. “Yes Alastor I am aware! I was alone in here and so I figured I’d just save up some energy. I’m sure you understand.”

“Quite frankly I don’t,” Alastor paused, “I think maybe I could help you get that smile back.”

Vox didn’t even have to think. He knew Alastor meant he was going to tickle him. You could ask Velvette. She’s seen those two in tickle fights that lasted for DAYS. she knows what they’re capable of, or more so what Alastor is capable of.

Vox puts up a fight for maybe a couple seconds but he just loves tickles more than he can play pretend that he doesn’t <3

It works out well for them both, Alastor gets to fuck around with Vox and well, Vox gets his shit rocked!!! And he loves that more than a lot of things.

OK IM GONNA CUT IT OFF HERE BUT PLEASE FEEL FREE TO COME BACK!!!! IM ALWAYS DOWN TO HEAR WHAT PEOPLE ARE THINKING!! MAYBE ID DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS AGAIN OR LIKE ADD ONTO THIS!!! BUT I AM JUST ALL OVER THE PLACE CURRENTLY HEHE. I HOPE THESE ARE ENJOYABLE!!! (LOWKEY I WANNA ADD MORE TO THISSSS MAYBE TMR MAYBE TMR WE’LL SEE)

apologies if anything is ooc, i just do this for funsies <3

THANK YOU FOR THIS ASKK

#madi’s answers!!#hazbin hotel tickle #madis hcs up in here #lee!vox #ler!alastor #AM I BECOMINF A RADIOSTATIC FAN…????#I THINK I AM TEHEHEHE #radiostatic tickle

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gachawolfiebloom · 4 months

Text

A Grumpy Troll and A Prince

Chapter 3: The Adventure Begins

Tags: Comedy, action, adventure, and romance

With the kingdom safely hidden, prince Four set off to rescue his friends with the utmost confidence he would make it to Bergen Town on his own. That was until he was face to face with the cunning Mr Puzzles. He tried to fight back, but his head got ripped off and the remaining corpse laid dead on the ground. He failed. He had...

"Snap out of it Four!"

He backed out of the intrusive thoughts that had put him in a trance and looked down at his journal, filled with memes. The scenarios that played in his head were all that filled the page. Back in reality, he was following the footsteps of those dusty, respectable-like shoes that the TV man was wearing.

"I totally got this. It's not like he is taking your friends to their impending doom where they will all be eaten..." He nervously told himself, trying to hope for the best. No, that was exactly Mr Puzzles was doing...and he knew it. Taking a breath, the troll forced himself to carry along and make it all the way in one piece.

"I really hope I can do it because they're all depending on me."

He had just left the Mushroom Kingdom and was now standing on the flower petal that looked over and colorful field of the Flower Kingdom.

"I know that I must leave the only home I've ever known and brave the dangers of the forest, saving them before they're eaten. I mean how hard can that-"

He then heard a snapping sound and looked down to find the petal he was standing on had broke.

"Be..."

He was falling to the ground, but caught himself just in time. Once his feet were safely back on the ground, he dusted himself off and thought it might help to look at the more positive side of things.

"There's a sunny sky that's shiny and blue."

A butterfly flew past him and thought that maybe this journey wouldn't be as scary as he thought. That idea was thrown out the window when some kind of spotted, four-legged creature caught the bug with its tongue, a clear, speckled one ate him, buzzards flew past, eating skin, leaving nothing but bones, and then a fire flower burned it to ashes. Four was left standing with his mouth agape when the flower turned to him. He waved nervously when the flower asked "I wonder what Gombas taste like?" Four thought "What the actual heck..." and slowly backed away.

"It's gonna be a fantastic day..."

He made it to the Koopa kingdom where volcanos were puffing everywhere and he bounced along rocks under a river of lava.

"Such marvelousness this is gonna bring. Iv'e got so many songs that I wanna sing. And I'm ready to take on anything. Yippee!"

He got launched so hard that he made it up to a castle, but a giant turtle stomped in front of him. Bowser was certainly not happy as he started to chase the poor troll. He couldn't give up as he kept running and running, jumping off a ledge just before Bowser's fire breath roasted him to a crisp.

"So many fun surprises around each corner. Just ride along a rainbow, gonna be okay. Hey! I'm not giving up today. There's nothing getting in my way and if you knock, knock me over, I will get back up again."

He couldn't tell which kingdom he was falling into next, but then saw a giant bird heading his way. Trying to duck out of the way just made him get eaten in one fell swoop and the Cookatiel took him back to her soup bowl in the Luncheon Kingdom.

"If something goes a little wrong well you can go ahead and bring it on."

The Cookatiel spat him back out into the soup bowl, water bubbling until Four popped out, gasping for air.

"Because if you knock, knock me over, I will get back up again!"

He managed to escape the bird on a piece of carrot and felt relived watching the furious bird over the boiling pot of stew. Whatever kingdom next would surely be better, that is until he saw a bunch of spikes up ahead.

"Oh crap..."

He was marching through the rainy New Donk City, overheated in the Sand Kingdom, almost a block of ice in the Snow Kingdom, swimming through the Lake Kingdom till that giant eel swallowed him, now traveling through his intestines, and pushing through the Windy Kingdom.

"I'm marching along, iv'e got confidence, I'm cooler than a pack of peppermints, and I haven't been this excited since...I CAN'T REMEMBER WHEN!"

He began stomping and jumping along flying Koopa's until when they ran out, he found he was high up in the air, falling once again. (Is this a habit of his?)

"I'm off on this remarkable adventure. Just ridding along a rainbow!"

He opened his eyes to find a piranha plant, shutting it's mouth tightly. God that hurt. Was he..

"What if this is all a big mistake? What if it's more than I can take?"

"NO!"

He pried open the piranha plant and kept going. As long as he reminded himself of his friends, he would surely still stand.

"I can't think that way because I know that I'm really going to be-"

Till a chain chomp came out of nowhere and ate him. Going out by that retractable dog was not how he wanted to go.

"Okay! Hey! I'm not giving up today. There's nothing getting in my way because if you knock, knock me over, I will get back up again."

He managed to escape the jags of teeth in its mouth, wondering why so many thing wanted to eat him. Even the place he was searching for was filled with creatures, ready to get their hands on him.

"If something goes a little wrong, well you can go ahead and bring it on. Because if you knock, knock me over, I will get back up again."

He tore through several giant spider webs and collapsed on the ground, stuck in webbing. No problem. Just got to get out of this web.

"And if you knock, knock me over, I will....get....back......up.....again......."

What was wrong? His spirit was still persistent on going, but his body was giving up. He could feel his heartbeat slowly decrease and his eyes closing. No. Not now. You can't give up now. He soon passed out and everything went black.

...

Hours had passed, but someone had finally found him. Four eyes had caught sight of the poor troll. It turns out that a bunch os spiders had found their next meal and slowly descended from their webs to feast on what they saw as food. They opened their mouths wide, ready to take a bite when all of a sudden, someone grabbed Four just in the knick of time. The spiders turned to find that what you might think would be the least expected troll to come. That's right. Three had saved the prince, but the spiders didn't care. More food for them anyway.

They started to crawl towards him as he backed up, but then Three took out a bomb and tossed it at one's face. The explosion barely startled them as they paused for a few seconds...and then got back to dinner. Uneasiness began to take hold of Three, but he stood his ground and as it turns out, he had the same kinds of abilities with his hair that Four did.

Using his hair like a whip, he sent the spiders packing back into the mouth of some creature that swallowed them up and went to rest. He breathed a heavy sigh and finally it was quiet. Quiet? He looked back to see that the prince was still passed out, not making a sound. That wasn't normal for him. Three became panicked as he rushed over to the blacked out troll.

"FOUR!?"

He kneeled down to the spider web that encased him and leaned close for any signs of life. No heartbeat. "Hang on Four!" He grabbed a sharp petal from a Spider Mum flower (yes I googled that) and two glowing bugs. He used the flower petal to cut open the web containment and rubbed the two bugs together like AED to restore the prince's heartbeat.

Concern was expressed in his eyes as he hoped he wasn't too late. Four's eyes shot open as he sat up. He saw Three standing next to him and his expression turned more smug. "Three! You are right on time!" Three went back from his strange, caring side into his immodest, grumpy self. "Oh sure...Like you knew I was coming." Four actually did know he was coming because he had set him up. "Yep. I figured after the third hug time, you'd realize being eaten by a Bergen wouldn't be so bad."

Three shot back "And I figured there was no way you could do this by yourself. Looks like we were both right." He returned the smug grin and crossed his arms while Four just dismissed it and carried on. "Okay then onward!" He started walking off and Three ran after him. "Oi! Don't ignore me!"

"Sooner we can rescue everybody and make it home safely." Three pushed through some plants and asked "Wait! What's your plan?" Four turned back to him and gave him a look that said "We're you even listening."

"I just told you. To rescue everyone and make it home safely." Three sighed and told him "That's not a plan. That's a wishlist."

"OHHHH I suppose you have a plan."

Three nodded and cleared his throat before speaking. "First, we'll get to the edge of Bergen Town without being spotted. Then, we get inside by sneaking through the old escape tunnels which will then lead us to the Troll Tree, right before we get caught, AND SUFFER A MISERABLE DEATH AT THE HANDS OF A HORRIBLE, BLOODTHIRSTY BERGEN!" Three was just trying to scare Four into reconsidering, but it didn't work because what he saw next was...

"Hold on a second! Are you memeing my plan!" Four enthusiastically nodded as he held up a meme that had them and all of their friends cheering "We did it!" and dancing along to that cringey Dora song. Once again, glitter got shot into Three's unimpressed face. He scowled at Four and said "There will be no more...memes..." Four sighed sadly and the two continued on.

They began walking along a huge tree trunk that had conveniently fallen on top of a river, making it the perfect bridge to get across. Four tried to lighten the mood by dancing and humming along the trunk. Three did not appreciate it though.

"Do you have to do that?"

"I always dance and hum when I'm in a good mood."

"Do you have to be in a good mood?"

"Why wouldn't I be? By this time tomorrow, I'll be back with all my friends!"

He pondered to himself on how they were doing and said "I wonder what they're doing right now!" Three thew some sarcasm into his answer with by replying "Probably being digested." Four looked at him seriously and strictly told him "They're alive. I know it." Three then stopped in his tracks and faced Four coldly.

"You don't know anything Four. And I can't wait to see the look on your face when you realize that the world isn't all fun and laughter, cause it isn't! Bad things happen and their's nothing you can do about it!" He pouted to himself and walked off.

Four could tell something was up with Three, but pushed it aside for not being shown up like that. "Hey! I know that it isn't all fun and laughter, but I would rather go through my life thinking that it mostly is instead of being like you. You don't sing, dance, and so grumpy all the time. Seriously, what happened to you? Three didn't want to talk about it so he stuck a finger over the prince's mouth and shushed him.

Concern started to melt into Four's mind as he squeaked out "A Bergen?" Three slowly removed his finger and whispered "Maybe..." Four looked around in fear, but then squinted his eyes. He sighed and said "There's no Bergen is there.? You just said that so I would stop talking!"

"Yeah. And?" He continued walking as Four rolled his eyes. They realized it was getting late, so it seemed like a good idea to find a spot to camp and resume the journey in the morning. They had found a quiet spot in the forest to sleep, except they weren't sleeping. Three was angrily covering himself in the covers while Four was unable to sleep.

He took out a picture of all of them together and lied it in the grass in front of him. "They're all so special. Good night Meggy. Good night Boopkins. Good night Tari. Good night Melony. Good night Mario. Good night Bob. Good night Luigi." He chuckled a bit on the last one with a smile and playfully said "Good night Tag6. Boop." as he laid his finger on Tag6's nose in the picture.

"AND GOOD NIGHT FOUR." Three sternly said, wanting sleep. Four sighed and looked up at the start night sky with the full moon out. It was perfectly placed to be seen through the trees. That ding sound signifying the special time had gone off on his bracelet. He sat up and looked over at Three. "Don't...even...think about it." Four rolled his eyes again and mouthed "Muh muh muh." to tease Three's demented attitude.

Back to looking up at the sky. You know what this needed. A song. "Stars shinning bright above you-" Three sat up, fully awake and looked at Four like he was joking. "Really? Seriously? More singing?"

"Yes seriously! Singing helps me relax. Maybe you should try it." Three was really started to get fed up with this. How hard was it to get his way of living life into Four's mind? "I don't sing and I don't relax! This is the way I am and I like it! I would also like a little SILENCE!"

He tried to fall back asleep, but then heard the sound of a soft Ukulele playing. What the hell!? He whipped his head around to see Four, playing the instrument and looking at him in an arrogant manner.

"Hello darkness, my old friend. Iv'e come to talk with you again."

Creatures began flying around and singing along while Three looked confused and speechless. A small spider came up next to him and whispered "Hello..."

"Because a vision softly creeping."

Three flicked the spider off his arm without breaking eye contact with Four.

"Left its seeds while I was sleeping."

"And the vision that was planted in my brain."

"Still remains."

"Within the sound....of silence."

All the creatures disappeared just as mysteriously from when they arrived and Four strummed one last time on the Ukulele. Three got up and softly asked "May I?" Four smiled and gave him the instrument. Three instantly threw it into the fire and he went back to sleep while Four watched his Ukulele burn, mouth agape. This was going to be a long adventure...

Chapter 4: Welcome to Bergen Town

#comedy #adventure #action #romance #smg4 #smg3 #smg34 #smg4 au #smg34 fanfiction #trolls #trolls au #trolls movie #trolls bergens #smg4 trolls #trolls poppy #trolls branch

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