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a-kaash-me-outside · 3 years

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𝐡𝐪 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs: timeskip! osamu, daichi, bokuto, suna send me hc / scenarios asks please thanks brainrot central here also osamu’s made me actually mmmmcmmmmmmmm thx

// nsfw (minors dni !!), f!reader, individual desc tags ~~

♡ osamu ♡ // sobbing, overstim, sloppy

fucks you so brutally into the mattress that you know the next day you’ll feel like you fell asleep on concrete, body aching, bruises forming, pure evidence of his roughness shown on every part of your body

and he makes you cum so many times on his cock, as if you could help yourself otherwise because he just fucks you so good, pounding into your desperate little pussy, needing to feel you squeeze his fat cock

after he’s made you cum enough (read: too many) times, he’ll finally cum deep inside of you, fucking it into your sloppy hole repetitively, pulling his cock out and rubbing it between the folds of your pussy, coating your swollen clit and puffy lips in his thick milky load, wiping whatever’s left on your sticky thighs

and then he eats you out, slinks between your legs and literally devours you until you’re a snotty, crying, sobbing, incoherent mess of a shell of your former self

literally pussy drunk. he cannot help himself. the second that he gets a glimpse of your drenched, creamy cunt, he needs to fucking taste you, eat you, ravage you like you’re the last thing on earth or the best thing he’s ever tasted (you are)

samu eats you out until whichever happens last: either you are sobbing hysterically or he can’t see a single drop of his cum left between your legs. honestly, it’s usually 50/50 of what happens first

sometimes, when he finishes, when you’re an overwrought mess and your pussy is only sheened with his spit, he’ll pull himself up from between your legs, hard once again from how fucking incredible your pussy is, throbbing, hot to the touch, leaking in a constant stream down the side of his veiny cock because he left it unattended while giving undivided attention to you and your pretty cunt

and he’ll nudge your legs wider, spreading your folds apart gently to see how pretty you are inside, how void of cum you are, how much you need to be painted again and he’ll jack off, stroking his length, fucking his fist until he cums right against your pussy, head pressed to your clit so you can feel how forcefully you make him cum, how powerful each stream is, slipping the head inside and letting a few ropes coat your walls

and then he’ll eat you out all over again

♡ daichi ♡ // just kinda hot, fun position

makes you ride him until you have completely exhausted yourself, sweating and head foggy and muscles spent, hands on his chest to brace your bounces, literally just moving on instinct by the time he tells you that he's going to cum

bit separate from the concept, but he is just so handsy while you ride him, will knead your tits and slide his hands up your sides and massage into your thighs even though you're trying to focus on fucking yourself on his cock really intensively and but he can't HELP IT anyway im definitely gonna make a post about how you ride hq men but

but he's so handsy and he guides you, but he doesn't really move you, he more so is just savoring how fucking good you look and how your skin feels against his

he'll finally sit you down completely on his cock, holding your hips in place as he cums inside of you, trying not to instinctively thrust his hips into you because he knows he'll make a mess

“just like that, stay right there seated on my cock, take it all, every drop”

so he fucking stands up, staggering towards the wall with your legs wrapped weakly around him, pussy slick against his stomach, and he lifts you, fucking hoists you by your ass to his mouth, his forehead to your stomach, your back flat against the wall, backs of your thighs atop his shoulders

and it’s so fucking good.

you’re completely expecting to feel off balance and nervous and tense but he has you positioned just right and you feel so safe, but that’s somehow not the biggest thing on your mind right now

your fingers are laced in his hair, grabbing on for stability only, because he has every bit of control in this situation and you are so unbelievably turned on both because you can feel him smearing his cum against his lips as he messily eats you out but also because holy fuck your boyfriend is so hot and strong what the fuck

will eat you out like this for much longer than you think he can. you’re actually amazed at how he can stay upright, buried in your pussy for so long

when he finally lowers you to the bed, arms shaking from holding you up for so long, he kisses you and you can taste his cum on his lips and your cum on his lips and his spit and it is the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced

♡ bokuto ♡ // face riding, puppy pet name, mention of public sex, f!cum eating

always cums really deep inside of you and always begs you to eat it out of you, no matter what

“please, puppy, can’t let it go to waste, please”

like he will fuck you in public and make you hold it in, pull your panties up really far to keep the fabric nice and tight against your pussy, and then eat you out in the backseat of your car

sometimes he has to wait to get home for whatever reason, and he doesn't really mind because by the time you both get home, he’s so hard again.

but he doesn’t like to cum in your pussy twice, he just always loves the feeling of either jerking off or thrusting against you while he eats you out.

eating the cum out of you makes him so fucking horny, almost painfully hard, whimpering and grunting into your pussy as he fucks the tight hole he’s made with his fist

this is totally not what this is about but it’s on my mind so: when he finally does end up cumming from eating you out, he likes to cum directly into your mouth, making sure your lips are tightly encapsulating his head, not too deep in your mouth that it doesn’t coat every single one of your tastebuds, but not too shallow that you miss a single drop. he loves watching you swallow it, follows the lump down your throat and groans when he thinks it hits your stomach.

“see, puppy, some for you too.”

and bo eats such a good diet, exercises frequently and his cum isn’t disgustingly thick or too watery and you love it.

anyway ~~

when you’re just lying on your back, on the edge of the bed, legs spread apart, bo on his knees in front of you, he uses his fingers to scoop out anything that his tongue can’t reach and there’s always cum that his tongue can’t reach because fuck he’s so long and he gets so deep and his load is always so fucking strong

but most of the time, he makes you sit on his face. it’s so easy for him to jerk off like this and he loves that it just drips into his mouth, slowly, like a fucking timer and even though his one arm is busy, the other moves you wherever he wants you to be

when he’s finally finished, having came again and satisfied with the state you’re in, your pussy is always sloppier than when he started. there might not be anymore cum, but fuck it’s so messy and wet and slick with spit.

♡ suna ♡ // kinda soft ngl, lowkey praises

actually kinda really sensual about it, like super fucking disgustingly sensual about it, what else is there to say

it boils down to three things, okay:

one.) suna loves cumming inside of you, can't get enough of feeling your tight pussy get even fucking tighter around his cock, squeezing his length as he throbs, milking every last fucking drop. there’s nothing like it to him. it just feels so fucking good.

two.) suna loves eating you out. you taste so fucking good and he’s really fucking good at it. he knows how good he is at it, loves hearing your reactions and feeling your thighs squeeze around his head and legs wrap around his neck and hands grab at his hair

three.) he just so happened to find out by chance that your pussy is so cute and sensitive after he’s unloaded inside of it, after you’ve came from being filled and you make the prettiest goddamn noises when suna goes down on you at that moment

so after he’s done fucking you and cumming inside of your good little hole, he moves down between your legs, makes sure you’re comfortable with a pillow and ample sheets to hold onto, though he knows you’ll opt for his back or arm or hair or just him

he hooks his arms under both of your legs, pulls you so fucking close to him and eats you out for as long as you want.

will murmur praises into your lips and thighs, telling you that you’re so pretty and taste so good and took such a big load and will stay between your legs until you tap on his shoulder or pull him up to your level and not a second sooner

“so fucking perfect, baby, taste so good, fuckin love you so fuckin much”

bonus.) suna is definitely, honest to god, so attracted to the sight of his cum drooling out of your pussy. it’s different than osamu who loves seeing you a messy, sloppy, obscene mess. suna loves watching you relax, muscles unclenching and his thick load dribbling out of your twitching hole.

he will sit back and just watch it before actually eating you out, kissing your thighs and around your slit, spreading your lips with his thumbs and just staring at it, moaning when it overflows and all comes spilling out.

and when it does all come spilling out, he will rush to catch it, sticking out his tongue and using it as a scoop to make sure it doesn’t touch the sheets, pushing it back into your hole only for it to drip out again

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finn-ray-nal-beads · 3 years

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i seriously will not be able to stop thinking about your Daddy Clyde holy hell you write him so beautifully. ugh Daddy's so gritty and dirty and just the right amount of meannnn ugh i hate you and love you at the same time. that piece stressin' me tf out ugh i really n e e d more of it lmao

A/N: @ohdamnadamm AS PER YOUR REQUEST DARLIN’ I COOKED UP A FILTHY ASS FUCKIN’ NUGGET FROM THE INNER MECHANISMS OF MY MIND (AND THANKS TO @in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather FOR HER DAD BOD FIC FOR THE LOVE OF PETE IM SO HARD FOR THAT AMAZING THOT, BLESS YOU ITS BEEN RUNNING THROUGH MY MIND FOR 48 HRS STRAIGHT AND IVE READ IT UPWARDS OF TWENTY TIMES) IM NOT SORRY IN THE SLIGHTEST. I HOPE YOU LIKE IT, SWEET BABE!

Warnings: Daddy kink, BJ’s, ball-sucking, choking, cumshots, cum eating, unprotected sex, dirty talk and LOTS OF IT, teasing, marking, breeding kink, hair pulling, scratching, just pure fuckin’ hot sweaty porn, no plot whatsoever, SMUT SMUT SMUT AND MORE FUCKIN’ CLYDE LOGAN SMUT.

The hot sun beat down in the small trailer located in the boonies of West Virginia, the AC had decided to take a shit early that mornin’, sendin’ your big bear to go to the Home Depot for some tools to fix it right up for his baby doll.

You sat, perched on the couch in nothin’ but your little pink thong, and laced up bralette, sweatin’ to high heaven as you waited for your tin foil knight to return and save the heat stroke you had been sufferin’ since damn near five in the mornin’.

“Jesus fuck,” you exhaled, rubbin’ more sweat off your soakin’ tits, pullin’ your hair into a sticky mess of a bun as you fanned yourself over the hot August fog that settled in the small quarters.

“I’m just fuckin’ parched as all hell,” gettin’ up from the couch, makin’ your way to the fridge to stick your head in the freezer for some relief, only to find your savin’ grace for the next twenty minutes or so, a box of red-white-n-blue rocket pops.

“Oh fuck me!” reachin’ for them as you tore the box open like a feral cat, rippin’ the packagin’ and shovin’ that popsicle into your gapin’ mouth, a moan emittin’ throughout the room as you savored the icy cold of the frozen delicacy.

Just then, the door shuffled open to let your hulk of a man in from the blisterin’ heat of the day, his white t-shirt stained in tit sweat, and his brimmed ball cap sweat covered too. He dropped the bag on the floor, airin’ out his shirt as he looked around for your pretty little figure.

“Baby girl?” concerned you weren’t in his line of sight, inchin’ towards the kitchen, “where ya at?” peerin’ around the partition to see the hottest thing he’d seen all damn day. You perched on the kitchen counter, tits completely sweat covered, legs spread open like a porn star, and a bomb pop slidin’ in and out of your perfect lips, the colored juices drippin’ down your chin into the valley of your chest as you eyeballed him from the livin’ room.

“What’s ma perty lil’ baby doin’ on the counter, huh?” movin’ over to you as he wiped his sweat covered face with his t-shirt, exposin’ his precious belly and shinin’ tits.

“Ya know it’s dangerous ta be on the counter like that baby doll,” panderin’ as he rubbed your soft thighs, bendin’ down to kiss and suck on the skin as you thrust the popsicle in and out of your mouth, not losin’ the slightest bit of eye contact, “wouldn’t want daddy’s precious baby girl ta get herself hurt, now, would we?” ghostin’ his lips over your succulent and swollen cunt.

“Mhmm,” whinin’ out at his touches on your sensitive skin, forcin’ the treat down your open throat even more, “‘m sorry daddy,” moanin’ as he lifted his head to smirk at your fuck me face.

“I don’t think yer sorry in the slightest darlin’,” gigglin’ as he stood to his full height, leanin’ in to grip the empty stick from your mouth, tossin’ it on the floor, “I think ya like bein’ a lil’ brat, don’t ya baby girl?” tiltin’ your chin to meet his searin’ gaze as he pushed his lips onto yours, sighin’ as he pulled you flush to him, inhalin’ your sweet scent as the kiss deepened.

“Ya know what kinda punishment lil’ brats get?” he pulled away, grippin’ your hair to wrench your head back up to his, suckin’ marks on your neck as he gathered you in his huge arms.

“No, daddy, I don’t,” bitin’ your lip at the pain of his ministrations on your pulse, “p-please tell me what I get,” moanin’ as he pulled your hair tighter and tighter.

Liftin’ his head back up, starin’ into your eyes, “get off the damn counter and assume yer position in front a the couch baby girl,” lettin’ go of your head as he watched you slide down off your perch to slink into the livin’ room, your ass red from the duration of your stay on the linoleum lined top as he watched it sway with your hips, completely entranced.

“Like this daddy?” bendin’ down on your knees, as he slid himself in front of the lip of the couch to gaze at your pretty little face beggin’ to be fucked. Your hands behind your back, head cocked up to meet his stare, tits pushed out, nipples peaked, and your vision on him and him only.

“Stick that lil’ tongue out baby girl,” fumblin’ with his belt and zipper as he watched you present the organ as requested, “daddy wanna see his lil’ cumbucket,” releasin’ his half hardened cock to sit on the couch like the king he was. He reached his hand to pull on the appendage, a moan emittin’ from your throat as he motioned you closer with it.

“Yer gonna suck ma cock until yer cryin’ for air baby girl,” musin’ as you lowered your face to his large balls, nuzzlin’ your nose in the softness and musk envelopin’ them in his aura.

“Yes, daddy,” whisperin’ as you pecked tiny kisses on them, “I wanna be a good girl fer you,” lickin’ the skin like a kitten.

“Mhmm,” he moaned out, his balls twitchin’ at your movements on them, “yer such a good girl fer yer daddy,” praisin’ as you sucked one into your mouth, tuggin’ on the skin and rollin’ your tongue around the sac.

“Mmm, ya taste so good daddy,” movin’ to the other testicle to mimic the motions just as good as the other, savorin’ his manly scent as you made out with his scrotum, his cock wavin’ like a flag in the sky as you tugged on the other ball.

“G-god d-damn,” he cooed, grippin’ your head to lift you up from his sac, “that’s enough a that baby girl,” lust blown as he rubbed the sides of your temples, causing your eyes to roll back in your head as he lowered your lips to his weepin’ tip.

“Now yer gonna take this cock baby girl,” gazin’ at the sight of you foamin’ at the mouth under his larger than life dick, “go on ‘n suck yer daddy,” shovin’ your perfect little mouth onto his achin’ dick, revelin’ in the gaggin’ sounds you made as he pushed your head completely down on him.

“Open up fer me baby girl,” gaspin’ as your jaw went slack over his throbbin’ cock, “there ya go darlin’,” praisin’ as you sped up your sloppy gyrations on him.

“S-such a p-perty lil’ cumbucket,” watchin’ as the spit fell in globs on his jeans, and the tears spilled from your eyes over his girth, “what a g-good baby girl daddy has,” throwin’ his head back in pleasure as you sucked your cheeks in, rollin’ your tongue on the underside of his veiny dick.

“Daddy’s gettin’ close baby girl,” he panted out as you adjusted your angle to hit your uvula just the right way, causin’ an animalistic moan to reverberate on the thin walls of the trailer.

“I-I’m,” shovin’ your head off his cock, causin’ a huge gasp for air to leave your lips and wide eyes to meet your man as he palmed his red angry cock in his hand.

“Open yer perty mouth baby girl!” growlin’ out as the largest stream of semen you’d ever seen squirt from his head, landin’ on your tongue, tits, and chin.

“Motherfuck-k,” he palmed himself until the last of it landed on your skin, takin’ huge deep breaths as he let go of his limp cock, “ya alright baby girl?” watchin’ the color return to your face as you sucked up his spend from your face.

“I’m just fine daddy,” crawlin’ on to his lap, thighs on either side of him as you nestled your covered pussy on his still throbbin’ cock.

“Ya such a good girl fer me,” pettin’ your arms as you gripped the back of his head, leanin’ in for a steamy kiss as you gyrated your hips on him.

“Mhmm,” he chuckled, “does ma sweet baby need somethin’ from her daddy?” watchin’ as you bat your eyelashes at him, “use yer words darlin’,” he pandered once again, bringin’ a thumb to tug at your bottom lip.

“I need ya to fuck me, daddy,” bringin’ the digit into your mouth as you moved again on his dick, the hardness comin’ back in a wave at your friction, “please, I’ve been a good girl fer you,” suckin’ on it like a pacifier.

“Ya right baby girl,” he cooed, “I can’t say no to yer sweet lil’ pussy anyways,” watchin’ as you lifted your hips to line his cock up with your achin’ slit, rubbin’ your built-up slick around on the head. Pushin’ your hips slowly down on his length, swallowin’ every single inch like the popsicle you’d been devourin’ minutes prior.

“G-good god darlin’,” breath hitchin’ as he took in your tight walls clenchin’ on his cock, “ya so damn tight, no matter how many times yer daddy fucks ya,” musin’ as you started your little dance on his lap.

Hips in a death grip by his flesh and blood hand and his metal one as you gyrated your body, tits bouncin’ in his face, sweat buildin’ up in the heat of the trailer as skin slappin’ emitted through every room in the house.

“F-fuck big bear!” you cried out, feelin’ his head pokin’ your cervix with every thrust he was makin’ upwards, completely sendin’ you into another dimension of pleasure, “ya stretch me out so damn good daddy!” moanin’ into every knock he made on your open womb.

“Ya gonna cum on daddy’s big cock baby girl?” watchin’ your mouth gape open as your tits fall out of the sorry excuse for a bra you’d chosen, “daddy wants ya ta cum so damn bad!” speedin’ his movements up until tears fell again from your face.

“Daddy!” grippin’ on his shoulders, drawin’ blood as he pummeled your hole with everything he had, “d-daddy I-I’m g-gon-,” the friction from his jeans rubbin’ your clit for him as you unraveled and released your sweet sticky spend on him.

“F-fuck!” cryin’ out in unrelentin’ waves of bliss as he rode you out to pound town.

“Such a perty baby girl,” musin’ as he thrust his cock in and out with more fervor, “daddy’s gettin’ close baby,” he praised once again, gritting his teeth as he set an ungodly speed on your overstimulated body.

“D-daddy’s c-close,” he grunted, thrustin’ in once more before unloadin’ his spend into your gapin’ slit, shovin’ it further a further as he kept thrustin’ into you.

“J-Jesus f-fuckin’ C-Christ,” hips still in his grip as it tightened from his orgasm, “ya feel s-so good darlin’,” stillin’ himself as you both gazed into each other, takin’ in the heat that had built over the last hour.

He brought you into an embrace, smellin’ your hair, as you pet his sweat covered back, kissin’ the moles on his shoulder and rubbin’ the scratches that had built up. After a few more seconds, you went to hop off him, only to be stilled back in your spot.

“Clyde, baby!” you looked at him, irritated and sweaty, “what the hell? It’s fuckin’ hot an’ I have ta pee,” tryin’ to pry his hands off your hips still.

“Nah baby girl,” he tsked, “yer gonna sit here with ma cum in your pussy for a minute,” musin’ and rubbin’ your lower belly, “I wanna make sure ya keep it nice n’ safe up there,” eyes dilatin’ as he watched your expression change too.

“Oh really?” movin’ a hand to slick his mop of hair back, “ya think this is gonna do the trick ta knock my ass up like ya want me ta be big bear?” gigglin’ as his toothy smile appeared as a result of your words.

“Well, it’s a damn start innit?” nuzzlin’ his cheek in your hand, “need ta make sure ma swimmers explore all parts a the cave darlin’,” chucklin’ as you rolled your eyes.

“Yer lucky yer the cutest thing on the planet,” softenin’ at his precious face restin’ in your fingers, “that jus’ makes me wanna have as many babies as possible so they get yer perty lil’ features,” rubbin’ his cheek as a tear welled up in his eyes.

“I ain’t as precious as you are baby girl,” rubbin’ more little circles on your lower tummy, “I can’t wait ta see the perfect lil’ ones we do make,” the wetness rollin’ out of his eyes as he thought about a little Logan joinin’ the trailer.

“Oh shit!” he jolted, scarin’ the crap out of you as you stood up, “I totally fuckin’ forgot!” he jumped up from the couch.

“Forgot what big bear!” clutchin’ your chest as you crossed your legs to avoid the liquid from fallin’ out of your bladder and your pussy.

“I have ta fix the fuckin’ AC!”

_____________

IN CONCLUSION,

🖤,

ray-nal-beads

#tw: daddy kink #tw: choking #tw: breeding kink #pure smut #clyde logan smut #clyde is daddy #clyde and his horsecock #clyde logan x reader #clyde logan #clyde logan x you #clyde logan x female reader #tw: unprotected sex

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lunar-lair · 3 years

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ok say hello to my insanely new oc who ive made entirely to be a villain who is still an excellent adult and a decent parent, probably. cares too much abt kids. think reigen mob psycho with a drop or two of milla. worked under Nick From The Mailroom and was actually in on his scheme.

has always been rather cold and brash towards adults, but is more caring towards kids. in my brain he has a brooklyn type accent? rough and tumble, walks around without a tie, yknow? they keep him cause he sorts mail real good, though.

(added a read more because this got INSANELY LONG AKSKSK i spent like an hr on this h)

he was a delugeionist, but only because he kinda just wanted to rip the world apart a little; lysandre vibes, thinks a lot of it is scum and needs to go. thinks the *psychonauts* are scum and need to go. hes psychic but suppressed it, think aquato parents but extra toxic about it, and straight up just saying being psychic is unnatural. wouldnt go to loboto parent lengths tho. so he adopted that thought of 'being psychic is unnatural and wrong', which contributed to a lot of self hate that was never learned out. likely, he realizes hes a shitty person and thinks he needs to go too. so like...yknow hank, dbh? kinda the vibe im gettin right now. way more formal, of course, and while usually gruff, is more polite when its needed; can and *will* beat the shit out of you verbally in a factual way, though, and can talk more street-lingo if hes talkin to real thugs. (probably winged it on his own after failing college or smth, hes got the vibes.)

anyways, its this plot where he slinks off and starts planting mistrust in the psychonauts or something. and inevitably he just...shows up and starts kidnapping people. dismantling things from the inside and all that. he left and formed a group who also hated psychics at some point, likely friends of his parents and friends of friends, all from his hometown. all of them fight *insanely* dirty, and a lot of them are insanely vulgar. the kids are supposed to be kept away.

but theres a line to follow here.

this man is a fold to raz. hates the psychonauts, hates being psychic, adopted his parent's hate of psychics, hates the *world.* raz is young and unburdened and unjaded...mostly. hes not the shock of water some young characters can be when it comes to being the foils of other characters; think steven with a villain or something, right? but raz is sassy and a little jaded, and not total sunshine positivity.

hes a child this man could look down on and not be immediately annoyed by, who is worried by yet respects raz's realization of the world as it is, however little that is.

and yet raz is still his foil. he still mostly loves the psychonauts, despite it all, he loves being psychic, for the most part, he dodged adopting his parents previous values, he still seems to have an even view of the world as a whole.

raz is jaded, if only a little, but he moved past it and accepted that things could still be bright. this man is jaded, but he stayed in his stormclouds, never looked for the sun.

ok where. was i. RIGHT ok so. at the beginning of this...story? the man finds raz being talked down to by one of the office workers; someone with weak psychic powers whos insanely jealous of his prowess. an adult who envies the young prodigy. and theyre giving him some insane task to do, like cleaning all of the closets within the hour, but hes saved the world twice, so he smiles and nods along, because he said he would help around the motherlobe, and this adult is asking him to do something that seems simple enough.

and this guy, internally, goes 'bitch.' for a good long second bc 1. dude even if you envy a kid, kinda fucked to show that?? not their fault 2. WHY are you asking a 10 year old to do that. why is there a 10 year old here. holy shit thats a 10 year old oh my god hes so tiny (no one told him there was a 10 year old because they knew hed stomp right up to management but. regardless. he is going to stomp up to management after this and no one can really stop him. except maybe raz well see)

so yknow. dude fixes his slight slouch and walks forward and politely tells this woman that 1. hes 10 why are you jealous of him and 2. hes 10????????? and shes like shit hes 10. and apologizes. and walks away

and raz is VERY ?? bc she was doing what? why is him being 10 important? and its that young part of you that gets pissed when people try to keep you from doing things because youre young and hes DEFINITELY yet to learn that piling responsibilites that should be handled by adults onto a child is fucked up in its own special way (looking at you ford, *nick*)

and the dude calmly explains because yea. he gets that. and he still sounds gruff and a little peeved but he squats down to razs height and he talks simply and factually, telling him straight on why it isnt right.

and. huh. people dont really do that for raz. except for sasha, sometimes, everyone likes to dodge the truth a lot with him, because hes 10, and sometimes, hes too nice to tug it out of them.

and this guy, this man that raz is already polishing a trophy for 'good adulting' in the back of his brain with his striking statements about how adults should handle things and kids should-kids should...get to have fun. not be traumatized.

for the shock on his face when raz said hed already saved the world a couple times, whats some closets. he reigned it in, said that its weird he saved the world, because thats usually their jobs.

and this guy offers his hand on instict before he stands up, even though he doesnt seem very sweet and kind like the adults that usually offer raz a hand. and he takes it, i think. he takes it.

warm. warm, a little nice.

reminds raz of his dad, maybe. he wonders if this man has any kids himself, but keeps his mouth shut, because he thinks he already has the answer, and its yes.

(he doesnt have any. he would wish he did, but he knows hed fail to raise them right.)

and when he stands, he asks raz what he was asking that woman for, and he says hes doing tasks around the motherlobe because his papers are still coming in. the man doesnt ask. (he knows what 'papers' means, realizes this is the tiny junior psychonaut every room in the damn place has been buzzing about, and he has fucking words for forsythe.) he just offers for the kid to sort mail under his supervision.

and that sounds boring. at least, it usually would.

this man is interesting, and a good...person? a good adult? hes...hes new. hes new, and calm, and a little like sasha but a lot not, and he thinks he trusts him.

so raz grins and says yea, mail sorting sounds nice.

(debatably, raz does not take his hand. hes too jaded when it comes to adults. debatably, he does not feel any warmth from this man who has taught him every adult has been telling him wrong. debatably, im projecting. but thats the whole point of ocs, hm?)

and then holes crop up in motherlobe systems. people are kidnapped.

raz keeps seeing the strange man, keeps telling him things, keeps hearing back, gruff and factual and a little annoyed, but raz can almost-just-barely tell its not at him, with the way he talks.

he can tell. he can tell.

he can never tell. this man is making sure he can tell.

raz trusts the man, is still polishing that trophy for 'best adulting' he has settling in the back of his mind.

and then the man comes with a militia.

he did not seem jaded. he did not seem hateful. he never showed any anger or hate towards raz.

but thats because he knows kids dont deserve it.

an excellent moral or two. a rotten, broken heart.

and at first, they keep the kids away, because these people fight dirty, because this isnt their battle, because the man has been sending emails about why 15 year olds are in a secret psychic agency.

(he does not mention raz. by razs second visit, he had just marked the boy down as another reason to hate the psychonauts as a whole, and especially its higher ups.

hes also regretting his alliance to nick by about the third. if he had known the man would puppet a child as if they were a toy, he would have organized his own rebellion ages ago.)

but eventually, the psychonauts need all hands on deck.

they send the children to find the missing agents.

the interns are fought on the way. some of them avoid the child, know the boss would pummel them.

they get to the base, and the strange man, the one with the broken trophy for 'best adult' (still barely-polished, because hes still so sure) still nestled in the back of razs brain, is still there.

the junior psychonauts are spotted. one of the guards throws a few rocks aimlessly.

they surprise them. one almost hits raz.

its intercepted instead.

and the other junior psychonauts watch as this man, their enemy, a villain, in their eyes, reprimands the other man for even accidentally daring, for even trying. for doing something they might have done just a month or so ago, if they had decided he was too much weirder than they already had.

and he yells something like, "Why the hell is he even here?! This is an enemy base, of whats a rebellion! This is a *10 year old*! What kind of adult sends a child *near* something like that?!" and he truly sounds angry this time, raz finds. hes too angry to keep it in. he still sounds gruff and oddly proper. raz is standing there, arms hanging. hes baffled in a specific way, the way he was every time the man's brow furrowed when he mentioned a harrowing story, the way he was the first day they met.

and he asks, a little quiet, a little small, a reminder of how young he really is, "Why are you still trying to keep me safe? We're supposed to be enemies now."

And his brow furrows further before flattening out, and he tilts onto one leg, and he swears he almost kneels to a knee.

He cant believe it. He really cant.

"You're 10." he says simply, softly, that factual way. "You shouldn't even be here."

and raz pauses. the interns freeze.

"...well, here I am."

and i think...it would be so intriguing if this was done halfway out of the mind, because this man is so against anything psychic. it would be so *compelling.*

so raz steps forward and asks again, asks why hes doing this.

and the mans eyes harden, he tries to turn off that soft heart, trying to remind himself of all that he hates. because he hates the psychonauts, because he sort of hates the world.

and raz asks why he could ever hate the psychonauts, head tilted, before listing off the few he knows to be true. but other than that, how? and ok, the world sucks a little, yea, hes seen that, gets that.

and he appreciates that this kid isnt totally gung ho about existence.

but he hates that he isnt, too.

and its this back and forth. everything the man hates, why he hates it. raz saying why its good but admitting why its bad.

and hes swayed, just a little.

but the man stands up from the kneel hed inevitably instinctively put himself into, and walks forward, hand held out yet again.

"You shouldn't be in the Psychonauts," he tells him, soft, factual, brow furrowed. "Come with me. I'll bring you back to your parents, or wherever it is you want to go."

raz contemplates. thinks, for a long moment.

he grabs the mans hand, warm and firm, yet again, for a terrifying moment.

before he reaches up to slap a mental door on his forehead, and astral projects into it.

he thinks this man is good. thinks hes just jaded.

thinks hes the best adult hes ever met, one who just happens to hate a lot of things.

hes only 10.

hes not letting someone who can tell him so clearly whats wrong and right for adults to tell him go that easily.

aaaand yknow. raz does his razzy thing. learns about why the guy hates the world and the psychonauts and himself. helps him learn that its not all bad, that he was excellent to raz, and still is, that things can be bad and good all at once.

the man concedes that raz is very capable, very smart, and can do a lot. but that doesnt mean he should have to.

raz tells him, though, that he likes working for the psychonauts. its his dream. and he realizes some things he was told to do were kinda screwed up, now. that maybe, in honesty, he was dealt a bad hand.

but hes done what he can with that hand, and he ended up with a royal flush.

and uh! yknow!! then raz leaves his mind and he calls off the rebellion! its like a rhombus of ruin type adventure, except without the villain being present beforehand. its just not clustered in insanely close with a ton of other wild shit.

anyways this got really long? sorry?? its an oc i just saw good adult and slight father vibe potential in the vibe i instantly got on him and then i went feral???? rip maybe someone will read this and if you did. congrats i honestly really liked how the whole foil and good-yet-bad and consideration of raz being 10 thing worked out. this oc is almost like our representative in the psychonauts world the way reigen is for the audience in mp100. yea :) i match them up a lot but thats just cause they vibe a lot. anyways its 1:40 am now and i spent abt an hour on this hope it vibed mildly byeeee

#GOD THAT GOT LONG. ALSMSKKS APOLOGIES OH MH GOD #psychonauts #psychonauts oc #and my personal tag:#pn oc #trash talks #long post #like! insanely long!!!!!!! i am so so sorry maybe i should make a cut #psychonauts 2 spoilers #like a lot tbh alskssk #OK READMORE SUCCESSFULLY ADDED!!! THNX GOOGLE <3

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meltwonu · 4 years

Text

s n a k e | e y e s [chapter 3]

pairing; snakehybrid!woozi x female!reader

this chapter’s notes; 🥺💕thank you for all the interest in snake eyes!! I can't believe it!! y’all don’t know how happy that makes me because I love this au!! 💕💕💕 in this chapter: jihoonie makes a small oopsies 🥴oral(female receiving), minor switch!woozi, hehehe... im sorry, im mean and u will know why 😭😭💕 also this chapter is long, strap in for the long ass ride!! yeehaw

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - x - x - x - x

It takes a week and a half for you and Jihoon to really fall into a rhythm that suits his and your needs.

Jihoon is still shy around you, only spending an hour or two with you while you work until he feels too awkward again, slinking away back into his room. You wonder, periodically, if he happened to hear what you were doing in your bedroom the night he came to stay with you and if that was the reason he’d been so shy and quiet around you. But you quickly shake the thoughts out of your head, preferring to believe that he hadn’t, for your sake and his. Jihoon had never mentioned anything to you anyway, so you had no reason to believe he’d heard anything.

But it’s a rainy Sunday afternoon that has you bundled up in an oversized sweater on the living room sofa, laptop haphazardly on a side table while you take a break from writing. A movie plays quietly on the tv in front of you, but you don’t really pay attention to it. Jihoon emerges from his room, covered up in a big sweater and his sweats as he takes a seat on the opposite end of the sofa.

“It’s… r-really cold today…” His voice is soft, almost a whisper, as he pulls his legs up onto the sofa, crossing them as he tries to cover his skin. “I… kinda had a h-hard time sleeping.”

“Did you need more heaters? The forecast said it’s supposed to rain for the next couple days, Jihoon…” You trail off, already sliding off of the sofa as you fetch a blanket for the cold male. “I can go pick you up another one tomorrow, if you’d like?” Draping the soft blanket over him, he thanks you, snuggling into the soft material. “If it’s okay… I don’t want you to go out of your way if it’s too much.” You chuckle, settling into your spot on the sofa again as you pick up your laptop to get a bit of work done.

“Nonsense, I want you to be comfortable here.”

Jihoon’s stomach grumbles 45 minutes later as he sinks deeper into the plush blanket, hiding the flush that covers his cheeks. You laugh slightly, already hopping off to make him and yourself a snack to eat.

“You’re more than welcome to rummage the kitchen whenever you want, y’kno. Or if you want me to make you something to eat, you can always ask.”

“Sorry I’m just… still getting used to it. You’re definitely nicer than my past owners.” You hum, curious about how his previous owners treated him for him to be this shy, or if he was just naturally always this timid. “It’s okay! Take your time. I know it’s weird but I’m… I’m still getting used to it too.” You feel your body heating up, suddenly reminded of a questionable dream you’d had the previous night; the cute snake hybrid invading even your mind when you slept recently. God I really need to get laid somehow, you think, maybe that cute barista from down the street would be interested? I think his name was Jun. Reminder to self to get his number next time.

You grab a pan, setting it onto the stove as you gather ingredients to make ddeokbokki; something that Jihoon really loved to snack on. “Hey, Jihoon? Did you wanna help me make this? I can teach you a bit!”

There’s a shuffling from the living room before the blonde haired male steps into the kitchen, a curious look on his face.

“I’ve never cooked before though…”

“It’ s okay! I can teach you. Just so that.. Um, just in case I’m not home or something and you get hungry?” He nods, stepping closer towards you as you set various ingredients onto the counter top. “Okay, I’ll just... Watch you.” You smile at him, urging him to come closer as you begin explaining what to do. But Jihoon’s mind fixates on something else, your voice getting drowned out when he feels the warmth radiating off of your body when he steps closer. Unbeknownst to you, Jihoon decides to stand almost directly behind you as you continue to explain how to cook to him.

When his hands start to slide up the hem of your sweater, you pause, setting the measuring cup back onto the counter top where it was before. Jihoon’s cold fingertips begin traveling up your sides, delicately caressing your skin under your sweater. Your breath is caught in your throat when he then leans his head over your shoulder, his tongue softly lapping at the exposed skin of your neck. A moan catches in your throat when you realize your body’s already rapidly heating up at his touch, the snake hybrid behind you also letting out a tiny moan of his own when he realizes how warm you’ve gotten.

But you snap back to reality, panic taking over when you let out a garbled noise, pushing back against Jihoon.

“Oh my g-god, wait--wh--”

Jihoon panics, pupils shaking as he pulls away completely, pressing himself into the fridge for a second before immediately bolting out of the kitchen without a word; only a door slam in the distance letting you know where he is.

A couple hours pass, the rain still pattering against the window as the moon rises beyond the clouds.

The ddeokbokki from earlier went unmade; ingredients going back to their original places as you decided to retreat to your own bedroom to catch your breath and cool yourself down. You really hadn’t hated what happened earlier, but it was quite the shock, and you could only imagine what Jihoon was feeling as well. But you set those feelings aside, making your way down the hallway to his bedroom to ask him about dinner. Fuck, he must be starving. He didn’t even eat earlier, you think.

You knock on his door, a muffled “yes?” coming from the other side.

“Jihoon did you want to eat dinner with me or will you eat later?”

“Uhm, hmm, I’m…um, I’ll.. I’ll eat with y-you.”

You set up the dinner table, setting Jihoon’s food across from you. You were glad that he just ate normal human food as it made it easier for you to take care of him; unsure if you could sit and watch him eat what snakes normally did. Hearing a door click, you break out of your thoughts, seeing him walk towards the dining table with a blush on his face.

“I… um…”

“Yes Jihoon?”

“I just… about earlier, I wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have… um, stuck my hands in y-your shirt like that…”

The memory alone has you blushing, his delicate and cold fingertips brushing against your ribcage had a tingle traveling up your spine and down to your fingertips. You hadn’t hated it; just the shock from his touches had you initially recoiling, sending Jihoon running straight for his bedroom where he had holed up for hours.

“I… It was okay. I, um, didn’t hate it actually…”

“O-oh, uh, so… um, is it okay? If… If I do that sometimes? It’s… you feel nicer than, um, the h-heaters in my room so…”

“Y-yeah, I mean… y-yes, that would be… okay.” Shock momentarily flits over his features before a genuine smile etches onto his face. “Okay… U-um I mean, it---it won’t---I won’t, y’know, stick my hands in your shirt but maybe like---like we can, um, cuddle? Sometimes?” You almost choke on your food at his suggestion, suddenly too shy to make eye contact with him at how innocent it all sounded.

“Yeah that… that would be fine!”

The two of you have normal dinner conversations, you asking him about songs he’s been working on while he asks you about work. You remind him that you’ll pick up a new heater in the morning and begin clearing the table with his help.

When the dishes are cleared, you bid Jihoon a good night; thankful that the snake hybrid wasn’t too awkward after everything that had happened earlier in the day. He calls your name as you turn away from your doorway to face him again.

“Yes, Jihoon?”

“Um, I was wondering… If it’d be okay if I slept in your room? It’s just… Uh, it’s cold and raining and... yeah.”

You contemplate it for a second, wondering if that was really the best idea, all things considered. But you mentally shrug, thinking, it’s just sleep.

“Sure, why not. Why don’t you get ready for bed and just… come in when you’re ready?” He nods, thanking you before he slinks down the hallway to his bedroom to change. The entire thing feels a little questionable, but you shrug it off, getting ready for bed before Jihoon shows up.

Admittedly, you normally would sleep in a big shirt and panties since you slept alone. But since Jihoon would be joining you this time, you slip on a sweater and some pajama pants, opting to be completely covered in order to prevent any potential mishaps. You could only pray your dreams were normal.

There’s a knock on the door when you slide under the bed sheets, adjusting your pillows before you reply.

“Come in!”

Jihoon opens the door, shutting it behind him as he stands in front of it awkwardly. Much like yourself, he stands there in an oversized sweater and pajama pants, hands digging into the material of his sweater as he takes in the features of your bedroom. When his eyes finally land on you already under the sheets, you pat the side of the bed that’s empty, inviting him in.

“C’mon let’s sleep. I still need to go out tomorrow morning to get your things.”

The extra heater is forgotten the next morning when you wake up in his iron grip.

It’s not uncomfortable, but he’s only got one arm wrapped around your waist and you find it almost virtually impossible to escape his hold as he snores softly into your neck. So you lay there, listening to the pitter-patter of the non-stop rain and his soft breaths, thankful that the two of you had fallen asleep without a hitch and that your dreams were normal.

Jihoon had quietly slid into the large bed with you, muttering a ‘good night’ before your radiating warmth under the sheets had lulled him to sleep.

You don’t know how much time passes as you lay there, but eventually Jihoon decides to wake up, a yawn and a simple ‘good morning’ muffled into your skin before he pulls away, turning to face the opposite side. You sit up, rubbing your tired eyes as you check the clock. 11:09am.

“Did you want breakfast?”

You never buy the heater; Jihoon happily moving some of his personal items to your bedroom after that late morning breakfast. And you didn’t mind, as long as the snake hybrid was happy, so were you.

He had dragged in a heater, using it on nights when you came to bed late, only for you to shut it off when you finally slid underneath the covers. He would easily find your warmth, rolling over to lock you into his grasp as you fell asleep.

It became routine over the next couple of weeks, even when the clouds cleared and the days and nights were warm. Jihoon opened up to you more as well, dragging his keyboard into the living room to play you some of the songs he’d been working on in his old bedroom, now a work space. You’d often work in your spare room but recently you’d been spending more time in the living room with Jihoon, finding the space more comfortable to be in. Setting your work away, you lay down on the sofa, a yawn on your lips.

“Hey, can I, um, ask you something?”

His voice breaks you out of your train of thought as you adjust your body. Jihoon sits on the floor near the window, fingers tapping random keys on the keyboard as he avoids eye contact.

“Yeah, what’s up?” There’s hesitance written all over his face before he nods to himself, exhaling sharply before he replies.

“I… I know maybe I’m asking for a lot and, I mean, feel free to say no because I know you probably will! And that’s--that’s okay but I was wondering… if--if I…” Jihoon pauses for much too long as you raise a brow.

“If you what? Jihoon, is everything okay?”

“I, yeah, everything’s fine, I just.. I’m sorry, I… It’s okay if you think it’s weird and I’ve never really done it before either but I just, I noticed when… when I touch you, you get really, um, warm and I… I like it a lot so I was wondering if I could try something?”

A million different thoughts float through your head in a millisecond and you can’t stop the blush that creeps up your neck and paints your face red.

“Um, I guess… it would depend? What exactly… did you want to try?” You bite the inside of your cheek, already trying to keep yourself from squirming around.

“I… can I try… eating you out? I wanna see something.”

The formality of Jihoon asking so politely if he could go down on you sends your brain short circuiting quicker than lightning.

He’s convinced at this point you hate him and will probably send him back to the adoption home the next day when he sees the blank look on your face as you process.

“Shit, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have asked that, I---”

“Y-yes…”

“Wait, what, hold--” Jihoon turns into a sputtering mess, his palms clammy against his sweats as he squirms. “Wait, did you say… yes?” You nod, already feeling the heat pooling in your lower abdomen as you shift awkwardly on the sofa. “Yeah I… um, I’d… be okay with that…” Trailing off, you try to look at everything but Jihoon, mildly embarrassed at how increasingly wet you were already getting.

“O-okay, um, when should we… do it?” Jihoon’s voice is shaky and to anyone else he sounded nervous, but inside he could barely contain his new found excitement.

“Now is okay? I… I’m okay with right now.” You finally look at him, finding him already crawling over to you on the floor before moving the coffee table enough to sit on his knees in front of you. “I guess, let’s start…?” He trails off, the blush never leaving his face as he twiddles his thumbs. You nod, sitting up to slide your shorts off, shimmying to the edge of the sofa as you spread your legs for him.

“Interesting.”

“W-what?” You stare at him from between your legs as he slots himself in front of you, cold palms holding your thighs open as you shiver from his touch. “Nothing, just… you’re already wet.”

If there was a sinkhole underneath you, you’d like for it to take you right about now. The embarrassment sets your body on fire as Jihoon chuckles under his breath. “And now you’re really warm? Interesting.” You bite your lip as he leans in closer to your clothed mound, his tongue peeking out from between his lips.

“Ready to test my theory?”

Gulping, he doesn’t even give you a chance to reply before he’s licking you through your panties, his tongue adding pressure along the wet patch growing on the fabric. Your thighs threaten to clamp shut around his head but his grip on you is too tight, prying your legs wide open as he continues to lick at your clothed entrance.

Jihoon pauses for a second, a groan leaving his lips. “Fuck, you taste so good, I need to get these panties off of you now.” Agreeing, you hook your fingers into the band of your panties, ready to get them off.

“Ah, ah, not like that.” There’s a ghost of a smirk on his face before he lets go of your thighs, fingertips pushing your hands away and replacing them with his before he tears them in half, the soaked material sliding off of your body as you stare at him in shock.

“Jihoon, what th---”

“What? Didn’t think I was capable?” You’re at a loss for words; the sudden change in his demeanor from shy to slightly dominating, intoxicating. “I’m just… wow.” He laughs at your lack of response, gripping your thighs again as he leans back in, his tongue already on your slit as he licks up a stripe from your clit to your entrance. Your hands immediately tangle into his hair, moaning as his tongue laps at your wetness.

You feel like you’re floating on clouds, warm and dreamy while Jihoon eats you out. He hadn’t even used his fingers on you yet, only sliding his tongue through your folds and prodding at your entrance and you were sure you could cum just like this.

“Ngh, Jihoon… Can you… make me cum?”

The male between your legs hums in response before his tongue flicks at your clit, a groan leaving you when he draws harsh circles around the nub. You can feel the pressure in your body cresting as you try to grind down on his waiting tongue.

“Jihoon, I’m---”

When you wake up, Jihoon is still by the window, notebook full of music related jargon as he glances up at you. “Oh hey, I was wondering when you’d wake up. You fell asleep so fast after you laid down, I was gonna ask if you wanted to hear some of the stuff I was working on but you were out like a light.”

Your head is void of any thoughts as you stare blankly into Jihoon’s face; the entire thing had been a dream. A cold sweat coats your body as you sit up, the wetness between your legs insanely real.

“I… yeah, I guess I was tired… I--I didn’t say anything weird in my sleep, did I?”

Jihoon ponders for a moment, lips tilting cutely up into a pout.

“No, I mean, you made some weird little squeaky noises but… that was it. Why? Did you have a weird dream or something?”

“Uh… no, just… wondering.”

Fuck.

#snakehybrid!woozi #woozi smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #woozi scenarios #woozi imagines #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios

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bettersafethandicks · 4 years

Text

oh gross this got out of hand i guess ill throw it in the tag im not editing it though sorry

oh to be a stupid little researcher on a team hired by the crimson raiders , oh to be attacked by the cov, to be trapped in a little outpost shack when you hear the commotion, to reach for the pistol kept in there only to have someone else grab it, leaving you to cram yourself in a equipment cabinet in a panic.

to hear the door be kicked open with a fanatic shout and hear your teammate get out a single gunshot through the roof of the shack before a horrid wet crunching noise and a heavy thump of a body hitting the floor, peeking through the cracked cabinet door to see enough of the prone body and handle of a thrown axe to know exactly what just happened. staying curled up in that cabinet for what feels like hours, hand pressed over your mouth to quiet the breathing youre certain everyone can hear.

oh to hear a bandit stomp in after the gunfire has stopped, looting whatever they can. to feel time slow to a crawl as the rummaging approaches you, adrenaline overloading your body so much its impossible to even move. to have the door thrown open, the sudden light blinding you, a harsh laugh and a rough hand gripping your arm to wrench you free of your nest. a screech that feels more animal than human flying from your mouth, twisting and flailing in the grip of the cultist; the sound of renewed struggles making the less coherent psychos perk up, and if you werent currently in the hands of a higher ranking bandit, youd be mauled on the spot.

insisting that youre ‘not a crimson raider- no- your team was just hired to collect data, you don’t have ties to them- ‘

until the bandit raises a gun and says ‘that’s a shame, they were looking for one of the firehawk’s little lackeys to take back, but if youre sure youre not a raider then they’ll just kill you here ‘

and suddenly youre 'a raider a raider i’m a raider please-’

to be tied up and thrown in the back of the technical with everything theyve looted and a couple bodies. hearing someones half broken echo go off with a crimson raider at hq trying to get in contact with the research team, hearing the intercepted raider radio transmission sending out a patrol to check on you guys, the driver turning it up just for you. by the time the radio buzzes with a “Site 859 compromised- those fucking cultists- looking for survivors- “ you’re already far into CoV territory.

oh to be dragged in front of the twins and see them excitedly rock paper scissors over who gets you, tyreen pouting when troy wins and gloats about it as he steps down off the pedestal their thrones are on. flinching away as he reaches for you and calls back to tyreen that you barely ever have any fun with them anyway

being hauled off your feet like you weigh nothing, slung over his shoulder, taken to a livestreaming room as he flips on the ‘RECORDING’ sign outside the door. sitting you half on his lap on a couch youd seen in these propaganda videos before

troy speaks with an almost playful tone ‘Alright, now your job, little raider, is to beg and cry for help from your big bad firehawk so she crawls out from wherever she’s hiding. Tell ‘em theyve got three days to come getcha- really sell it, y’know?’ his grip on you tightens, pressing you against him and leaning his face in so you can feel his breath on your throat, ‘maybe it’ll help to imagine that youre real scared and if she doesnt come to your rescue, youre going to be oh so slowly eaten alive...or something.’ he punctuates his instructions with a wet tongue dragging up the side of your throat, a tongue you can’t see from this angle, but it feels far too long.

cambots whirr into view, waiting for his cue- ‘Oh! And one more thing.‘ Troy takes one of your hands into his, thumb pressing into your palm as he brings it up to his face. “this isn’t live tv, babe, so you try and tip off the losers and we’re just gonna do another take. And every time you make me redo this-’ that tongue slides out of his mouth, twisting over your fingers as his jaw splits at the seams with an audible wet pop. you stop breathing. razor sharp teeth prick at your skin as he mouths at your suddenly incredibly fragile fingers, the hungry drool slicking over your skin telling you that he would like nothing more than for you to disobey. just as fast as he revealed his monstrous features, his tongue slides back and he pulls your hand back to safety and resets his face ‘you lose one of these.’

not having to act much at all for the camera, knowing that if lilith or a rescue team came for you theyd be heading into a trap but god you were so fucking scared and this was your only shot- Troy smirking , speaking derisively to the future audience, arm slung so casually over your shoulders keeping you nice and close

it was over too soon, and you prayed you did a good job. you were bait, at least, and you’d be alive long enough to have a sliver of a chance-

‘Cut!’ troy called, standing up to slide the long coat off and toss it over a nearby chair. “right- get that out to the liarhawk and pals today.’ troy spoke to the cambot,, ‘now- im fuckin hungry, so we’re gonna do the letsflay for thursday right now, k?’ he turned to you, tongue peeking out to lick over his lips as he pushed you to your back, a spark of sheer panic making you try to jolt up, only to be held down by his prosthetic with a soft chuckle. troy got onto the couch, straddling you and pinning your legs down, your head resting on a throw pillow that would have been comfortable if not for the current situation

his jaw started to shift as he looked down at you, his gaze almost affectionate

you stammer ‘W-wait no no you said- you said i had three days for the raiders to come and -’

Troy laughed, wheezing like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard, “oh my god you- you really- hhahahahaha sweetheart, I lied.”

midway through a laugh, his grin broke apart. his face was an open, horrid display of teeth, too many- too many teeth- a blue tint to the drool starting to drip from that awful tongue, so eager- somehow you could tell he was still smiling as he pushed up your shirt to reveal your soft middle,

you thought you’d scream when his teeth sank in, but no- no your breath caught in your throat like youd been choked. you didnt even feel the pain right away, just the wrong feeling of something being undone, broken apart- and then he pulled and you felt it and it was like you were being torn apart because thats exactly what was happening- your skin stretched until it met his teeth and was sliced with a jagged edge, muscle pulling and tearing to yield to his much stronger jaws and you couldnt help but watch .

screaming, fighting, trying to kick and twist and shove him off of you, not succeeding in making him budge, your pushing hands only following his head back as he liberated the sizable chunk of meat that had been yours until very recently. troy leaned back out of your reach, snapping his unnatural jaws to toss and catch the bloody shred, swallowing it like he was half-starved.

A huff that mightve been a laugh came from him, gathering your flailing arms in his mechanical grip and pinning them up over your head, exposing your torso even more. “they always wait ssso long to fight’ he slurred through blood streaked mandibles, tongue lapping over the red dripping down his jaw

your middle burned, hot and wet with pain, and when he moved in you though he’d simply take another bite but no- no he was moving to your face bringing that awful mouth to your face so close to you so close-

he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, in a way that you might call gentle if you weren’t writhing like a fish on land. he nosed at your throat a bit, giving a low, pleased rumble as he went, moving down until you felt his fractured jaw close around the space between your shoulder and neck and bite with a soft hum , and you shrieked, bracing yourself for the tearing and ripping but he held there like that, not pulling, just-

a cold seeped into your muscles, a frigid alien wave that seemed to creep along with your heartbeat. every pulse brought it further through you, until it ebbed away and left a sluggish heavy feeling in its wake. down your shoulder through your arm, fingertips twitching a little before they felt too heavy to move. slinking across your chest, up your neck, ears ringing for a moment as whatever venom he just administered hit. against your wishes, your breathing slowed from its panicked hyperventilating. your other arm followed shortly, struggling and grabbing at the couch’s fabric dying down to little shivers. the chilling wave seeping down your torso, washing over the bleeding hole in your middle and pushing that agony far away, a dull, hot pressure remaining. your legs were the last to give out, scuffling and and kicking getting slower and slower until all of you stopped.

you let out a whine

troy, mouth still wrapped around your shoulder, let out a groan. he swallowed the mouthful of blood that had accumulated while you were being sedated.

jaw loosening, he pulled back, saliva and blood and florescent blue venom coming away in strings from the deep bite. the siren looked down at you, now pliant and truly helpless under him. focusing your eyes was hard, but you could make out the red glow of his markings, seeming to pulse with your own slowing heartbeat.

he sighed happily, rolling his shoulder and letting it relax. you could distantly feel a hand running over the bleeding hole in your abdomen. “mmh...there....now, where were we?”

#gross #local roadkill dump #troy calypso #stapleface #uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh you know what i do at this point you know whats in here you fucking know #you ufkcincign i do one thing i have a single ability and its 'write gross cannibalism content for me and no one else'#this is gross i love mosnter mouth bastard and being mean and incoherent and thats all i have in my pockets #i throw this on the ground and never look at it again dont @ me about the tense changes or mistakes

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brvdleymilligan · 3 years

Text

HLO slinks in thru a bead curtain.......... truly sry this took me so long to concoct bt i’m here now, hand on hip, smiling coyly at u all...... i’m nai n i’m rly excited to b here so i’ll just dive right in!! u can find bradley’s pinterest board here n her muse tag here. like this or hmu for plots!

[ cis female, she/her, margaret qualley , twenty-four ] i can’t be sure, but i think i just saw BRADLEY MILLIGAN drive onto the parkway. don’t they know we’re not supposed to be driving on that haunted road right now? maybe it has to do with the fact that they’re so +RESILIENT and -VOLATILE that makes them feel UNPHASED about everything going on. i guess we could also chalk it up to the fact that they’re always reminding me of LEMON IN A FRESH CUT, THE AMBER BLINK OF AN ANGRY ALLEY CAT, GRINNING WITH BLOOD ON YOUR TEETH. either way, i hope they get back safely. [ nai, she/her, 24, gmt ]

aesthetics: singeing a hole in your fishnets with the cherry of a menthol, spitting a pistachio behind the bar just to hear it ping off the nozzle top bottles, lemon in a fresh cut, a war torn poppy standing alone in an empty field, pressing thumbs to yellow bruises, stomping over flowerbeds when there’s a path right besides it, dangling over ledges just to feel your chest jolt, a snarling rottweiler that needs muzzling, limp feet poking out behind a door, ‘I PROMISE I DON’T BITE’ scrawled on a name tag, slapping a bald head in front of you at the cinema like it’s a bongo, not owning a single jacket that isn’t stolen, driving a stranger’s car down the wrong lane against the screaming traffic, hair more feral than a wolf cub and eyes smudgier than a coal mine.

BACKGROUND:

ok SO. her father owns a strip club in crescent hill named no angels. it’s kind of.... a seedy establishment i won’t lie. hs a red glowing sign like it’s lighting up a window in amsterdam. cigarette butts floating in oil slick puddles outside. unsavoury characters crawling all over like rats in a sewer. despite this it’s a legitimate business on the surface of things n it does pretty well in trade. it’s like.... that place people warn u NOT to have ur bachelor party at unless u fancy urself the type tht willingly enters a lion’s den bt tht almost??? adds to the allure in a way??? ppl r like wow so sketchy it’s the thrill of a lifetime........ i mean run while u still can bt go off i guess

it isn’t Confirmed Public Knowledge bt it’s pretty heavily implied thru the rumour mill that bradley’s father is the head of a gang of rly............ Not Nice people. all the ppl that work for him u would hands down NOT want to run into in a dark alley. while things seem legitimate on the suface it’s pretty clear they’re into shady dealings n the townsfolk that suspect that would indeed b correct! the club’s a front for a drug business n they’re also washing n running counterfeit cash thru it. they probably also have their hands dipped into a few other local businesses to run their cash thru these too n keep it all seemingly by the books so nobody comes sniffing around. they even r friends with a member of local law enforcement that’s working w them for a cut so they honestly have all bases covered to keep things airtight n foolproof. perhaps a business in reed too which bradley oversees bt i haven’t given this Too Much thought as of yet??

so ya she’s grown up fairly local most of her life n would maybe be known around town as such.................. the milligans r certainly Interesting as far as families go so like. it honestly wldn’t surprise me if ppl nudge elbows when they see one of them coming n immediately walk in the opposite direction. just quite an intimidating presence...... they’re like caged animals where ur specifically instructed NOT to stick ur fingers between the bars bc they WILL bite

on a more personal note her dad is pretty much the worst human being alive n bradley hs like….. a lot of issues with herself as a result of years of toxicity n abuse

in terms of more family bkground info her mum’s name was alyssa n she vanished when bradley was 12. jst like…. into thin air. nothing. no note. zilch. gan! n when bradley asked her dad abt it his response was essentially “guess she didn’t love us enough to stay”. as bradley’s got older tho n become (without intention) more involved in the business side of things, it’s become pretty clear there was far more to the story.

(abuse tw) they had a horrible marriage n tony ws emotionally manipulative at the best of times, violent at worst, which didn’t help the fact tht alyssa ws struggling a lot w severe depression n rly just… not in the mindset to b dealing w anything else, even where motherhood ws concerned. bradley p much… would look after her a lot n they’d both b scared of her dad n it was just a whole unhealthy mess.

(death implied tw) anyway im rambling bt basically tony (bradley’s dad) gt wind of alyssa sleeping w men tht worked fr him n he just… got rid. bradley’s kind of worked out over the yrs tht her mum didn’t jst leave on her own accord n tht something must hav happened to her bt she’s too scared of her dad to ever directly accuse him

when her mum went all of her dad’s cruelty pretty mch got channelled straight onto her. it ws diluted between two before bt as u can probably imagine her upbringing was jst…. a steep downhill decline

(drugs implied tw) she learnt ways 2 deal w the incurring trauma bt they weren’t healthy ones at all! bsically jst. will do or take anything fr the distraction. chases a thrill like it’s the only way to remind her she’s alive. has absolutely no regard fr her own wellbeing n often gets other ppl in trouble too bc she’s so insatiably reckless

(hospitalisation tw) she hd….2 separate stints of psychiatric hospitalisation n she never tlks abt it. like ever. acknowledging she’s been vulnerable is her worst nightmare n bc of the way her dad raised her she always thinks any sign of struggling within herself is weakness. truly does…. not kno how to properly emotion

CUT TO!!!! the present. she’s currently living at the motel which is like. the least homely place she cld ever live rly but bradley loves making her life uncomfortable n doesn’t rly believe in growing sentimentally attached to anything if she cn help it <3 probably gets into arguments all the time w her neighbours it’s a whole thing.... atrocious at feeding herself has breakfasts frm the vending machine like her organs aren’t screaming fr vegetables.... plays music too loud n sometimes vanishes for days at a time without a word. she’s a lot.

i honestly feel like the murders haven’t rly phased bradley too hugely....... i won’t lie she probably genuinely is like. oh maybe it’s smthn to do w my dad. n just blinks the other way not rly that phased. on some subconscious level i think she rly just thinks........ death follows her wherever she goes n is like. this is just life for me! kind of depressing. holds her hand bt then screams n pulls away when she inevitably bites me.

PERSONALITY:

the kind of sour cherry only certain people have a taste for

once drank a bottle of whiskey, insisted she could still do a cartwheel and accidentally kicked an old man’s front tooth out in the process. proceeded 2 collapse into a flower bed and laugh so much abt it that she cried

barely takes anything seriously 50% of the time and is angry the other 50%

if she was a coffee she’d be black with five grains of sugar that you couldn’t taste until the last sip

(alcoholism tw) high functioning alcoholic. if u ever see her w a coffee cup u jst kno tht one sniff will confirm high alcohol percentage. honestly idk hw she does it her liver must b yellin

loyal to a point of fault. if she cares abt u (rare) and u murder a man in cold blood (not so rare in the broad scheme of bradley’s life) she’ll brawl anyone that says ur guilty

honestly wld probably fight a person over anything. sometimes she’ll jst be having a bad day n she’ll burst n take it out on whoever says the wrong thing. minefield!

has the worst luck in romance…. ever. ALL her past bfs hav been absolute beasts n as a result she has the ‘romance is dead n love is a lie’ mentality. definitely NOT a romantic. very cut n dry abt these things. sex is mostly just sex n she’d kind of scoff at anyone that wanted more from her

mostly wears stolen clothes from strangers and jackets that swamp her. huge chunky stomping boots with steel toe caps that would RLY bruise if they gave u a kick. hair is p much always a wild mess n she usually hs kind of smudgy/smoky makeup bcos apparently she’s allergic to combs and generally looking presentable… relatable content. the only time she rly looks put together is when she has to do something/go somewhere/see someone on behalf of her father....... he kind of uses her as a sort of. honey pot sometimes fr shit his gang get up to it’s like. not! a way u should ever utilise ur daughter but :/ i cannot stress enough how much i wna drop kick him in the neck

she’s v sarcastic. blunt. kind of has a habit of…. assessing a person n she’s quite perceptive bc she’s been trained to b by the way she always has to monitor her dad’s expression fr the slightest emotion change. she’s very confident n can p much mke a conversation out of whatever if she feels like it. independent too like she hs a bunch of (predominantly surface connection) friends bt she doesn’t care abt going out places alone n does this often. she’s probably kind of known around town bt itd b a 50/50 balance between bein known as intimidating n bein known as that one girl tht always gets into anarchy

likes: drunken snow angels that drag on so long they flirt with pneumonia, stealing cars, throwing watermelons off rooftops to watch them explode, shooting pedestrian’s with bb guns from hidden spots on rooftops.

dislikes: telling the truth, tulips so yellow it’s like they’re gloating, playing music loud enough to fry your brain and serve it on a piece of toast, going home.

PLOTS:

someone tht works at the ‘no angels’ strip club?? either as a dancer or bartender or whtever. just a forewarning it’s probably gna b a pretty….. seedy and Not That Pleasant environment bc it’s like. a crime hotspot inevitably bc it’s a gang hangout so. ur chara wld truly be in fr a rollercoaster ride to say the least

(drugs tw) she deals coke fr her dad’s gang so perhaps ur muse buys off her

anyone….. she’s brawled in the past like. she’s literally a menace i cnt express this enough. wil jst randomly throw a drink in someone’s face fr no reason bc she’s bored. she’s probably pissed off 1000 diff ppl in 1000 diff ways. the possibilities r endless n i jst think tht’s a sexy prospect!

fwbs perhaps??? exes??? (probably ws a tumultuous relationship honestly bradley is. a handful...... it’s also rly not often she ties herself down tbh so this would maybe have to b discussed/be circumstantial/kind of rare)

mayb someone tht she met at an aa meeting when she hd to go fr a court mandated thing one time after bein arrested fr public indecency. i feel like there’s probably a rly expensive statue somewhere thts fancily sculpted n she like. did a flying kick n broke the dick of it off n gt arrested fr it

ppl she……. Goes Wild Goes Crazy w. truly jst the most self destructive person alive so anyone w a similar mindset wld b a hellish bt fun combination

on the contrary a gd influence cld b nice perhaps? like someone tht genuinely cares abt her n she jst doesn’t kno hw to compute it

maybe people who r her neighbours that live at the motel too??

OH it could b fun if ur muse runs or works at a local business maybe like. a bar? idk? n bradley n ur muse have developed a rapport bc she frequents the place n is................ a Character

um. honestly the world’s our oyster. hmu n we cn brainstorm if none of tht catches ur eye!

#parkway.intro #abuse tw #death tw #drugs tw #hospitalisation tw #alcoholism tw #depression tw #i believe tht covers it...........#FLINGS this like a harpoon

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of-tarnished-metal · 4 years

Text

MOM [TEXT:] Hi honey, can I see you in my office? We need to have a little talk.

A little talk.-- But that can mean so many things! The redhead’s fingers clenched tighter around his Pokegear as he straight up panicked over those words.

Oh crap, oh no... Silver’s eyes were darting wildly as if the walls were closing in on him. A hard lump jumped from the pits of his stomach, to the middle of his throat, proving it hard to feel the sense of breathing well at all. This was it for him, he was gonna get swallowed up whole by a monster and drop dead there on the floor.

In reality though he was just sitting on his bed, dumbfounded, guilty, nervous-- all the things the redhead would scowl at anyone over if they saw it for themselves in person. But not here--

It really was the uncanny powers of Mom that could strike the fear into Silver’s very soul, wasn’t it? He hates this.

---

But at the same time, every minute spent staring at his phone was a second too long for Ariana.

By now she had already groomed the office back into place after her dealings with Fred. The lady taps her nails a bit on the desk as she waits impatiently for her son to walk in through the doors.

The monitor no longer displayed the horrific scenes of her son being pinned to the floor by that foolish Agent. Cherry red lips snarled a bit to herself at the thought, how dare someone put their hands on the boy like that! Moron, if he doesn’t make it out of the basement alive, he got what was coming to him in the end.--

Now her gaze diverted over to the picture frame beside the screen instead, and just like magic her features began to soften. They were pictures of Silver in a few different stages of his life by a certain order. One of when he was a little baby, another when he was a small child, and now an older boy who is much grumpier looking than the last two...But still cute, in his mother’s eyes.~

SILVER [TEXT:] Ok.

With her mind drifting off fondly to the days of yesteryear, the sudden vibration by her elbow caused the Executive to jerk her chin off her resting hand. Ah, good... the phone is put back down as she waits.

Eventually it’s the footsteps that tip her off to his approach first before the door is lightly knocked on. Silver has a very specific sound to Ariana’s ears that’s been well recognized since he first learned to walk.

“Yes baby, come in,” already the teen feels his skin crawl as he takes cautious and deliberate movements to curl his fingers around the edge of the door, peeking in first.

“Come in.”

Silver wanted to wince, hard, but kept himself in check the best he could as the door was left to swing open-- slooowly. The creaks and whines it made only highlighted his own sense of dread within.

It was that...thing that struck fear in the hearts of all who heard the lady open with her greetings sometimes. The Tone.

The back of Ariana’s chair was bumped into quite hard from Arbok, her snake had long since coiled back up for a few hours after being denied a little blonde snack. Its tongue flicked rapidly as Silver shuffled in an akward gait to sit in the chair in front of the Executive’s desk.

Same spot, same spot where that other human sat before. The Cobra Pokemon unwound itself, slinking his way over to meet the redhead in the hotseat.

Silver turned his head sharply away when he could feel the breath of the large snake’s huffing against a cheek. Ugh...this Pokemon wasn’t always the boy’s favorite that Mom owned, but he’d put up with it anyway. Soon his face was brushed by the very tips of the serpent’s tongue. The boy. This is just the boy.

Maybe it’s a sign of affection for all he knew, he never will, but Silver wasn’t appreciative of Arbok trying to rest his chin on the top of his head at all.

“Alright, alright....” Ariana waved her hand at the Pokemon to ‘shoo’ over the muffled sounds of her protesting son, this wasn’t the time and place for that right now.

He wished he could feel the weight and pressure lift off of him once Arbok moved away, but no. Nervously his eyes flitted up to meet Ariana’s now, his suspicions confirmed of something even worse than The Tone-- The Look.

“So, baby...” she started with a quicker moves than Silver could open his mouth. “It’s been brought to my attention a few different things in the past few days.--” The teen almost shifted forward in his seat in a tense way, suddenly urged to speak his piece, but--

“Ah-ah, don’t.”

...He slowly resigns to presssing his back into the chair.

“I’m not happy,” well that was very obvious to him by now, and Silver felt compelled to avert his gaze while she just ampilfies her own. Whatever she had to say would be more than enough, please for the love of Arceus don’t look her in the eyes when she’s angry.

“Because first of all, it would have been very helpful to know there was someone tearing holes in the fabric of space and visiting your room, yes?”

“......Yes.”, the boy shifts a bit nervously in his seat.

“So, why didn’t you?” “Didn’t think it was a big deal, that’s all...” he mumbles like there’s marbles in his mouth, soured, unwilling to admit his shortcomings just above anything of a whisper.

“Not a big deal, or...?” “--I didn’t think anyone would believe me.”

There we go. “Yes...I can understand where it would be hard for the others to believe.” Ariana’s eyes narrow more. “But you should have told me, your mother.”

“.......” Another shift in the chair as he can just hear the growl in her voice.

“We didn’t need to go through that fiasco with the lockdown the other day if you had just told someone beforehand! And don’t tell me this isn’t the first time you’ve ever met this boy, the footage clearly tells a different story.”

Almost it was like something primal clicked in the redheads brain, his mother’s rising anger only starts to fuel Silver’s own. “But I did tell people! I told them in the chatroom--!”

“The chatroom, yes, you did. In a not-so-well mannered way, in fact.”

Impatiently she taps a nail on the surface of the desk even more, for as much as she loves her boy no matter what-- she’s tired. The Executive is not willing to bend and play the runaround, even with him after all she’s had to do today, her aim is for the scruff. Quickly.

“Those same comments warranted Fred to come after you.”

Silvers hands clenched tighter around the arms of the chair, oh shit she knows!?

Maybe the startled look he has gives Ariana just the slightest bit of amusement, trapped.~ But as quickly as it comes, it goes, and falls away into a much darker mood. “Though believe me when I say I wasn’t happy with him either...”

A small hum. “But that’s alright, I took care of that too already.”

There’s a sudden flash of horror in the boys grey eyes then while staring squarely, but almost pitifully helpless into her red ones. Took care of...?

“Wh-what happened to Fred?”

Mom doesn’t answer, which in a lot of ways makes it so much worse. He’s very aware of what that means, she....she doesn’t need to explain it. Though that’s when a very strange and dissociative feeling crept up into his very soul.

Sure Fred was annoying, but...he didn’t wanna think the guy went out like that because of-- him.

“Which is why I think I have to punish you for your behavior as well.”

A cold chill crept down the boys arms and into his fingertips, but as tense as he was, it didn’t stop Silver from feeling his shoulders start to drop in a limp and defeated way. There was no getting out of this, and he didn’t need a snake to coil him up in that very same spot where the Agent was before to know that.

“You’re grounded.”

The boy blinked rapidly a few times in his seat as he felt like a puddle that was oozing to the floor. The verdict was like a cold slap to the face which shocked him out the stupor. And, maybe in some dumb and selfish way that felt like a fate worse than death itself.

“Which means no internet, no video games, no phone, when I get up in the morning, you get up in the morning, when I go to work, you’re coming with me.”

“.........”

“But when you’re in here your idle hands will be doing work that I give you. Not handhelds, not guitar. Just books and homework until further notice. Do you understand Silver?”

“............Yes.”

“Good.”

The Executive leans back in her own chair. Still annoyed, but at least growing more satisfied with his complacency. “Your punishment starts tomorrow. “

“Okay....” Silver’s voice was very soft now, fallen low much in the level of shock Ariana expected him to be.

“You can go back to your room now, I’ll see you by dinnertime.”

Numbly, the redhead pushes himself out of the chair after Mom dismisses him, dumbfounded, guilty-- confused. He barely feels the metallic touch of the doorhandle once he turns it and quietly leaves.

...Ariana let out a soft and troubled sigh once her son closes the door behind him. She hated to be the bad guy sometimes, but if that’s the only way to get headstrong boys to learn the lessons.-- Then so be it.

#GROUNDED #rocketzealot #redtoomuchintoit #drabble #mom: ariana

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teenremus · 5 years

Text

dog days i

sirius black x reader

word count: 2760

warning: too cliché probably

a/n: my time-jump thing isnt working im highkey confused because its still on my other fics but not,,, this one? im so confused tumblr give me my lines back i have to use a screenshot

part two

[...]

The Whomping Willow had always been your spot, a place where you could go, unbothered, even by the swinging branches themselves. To the amazement of other students, the tree didn't make an effort to throw you out of range when getting too close, you were even allowed to lean up against it.

When others came into the picture, attempting the same as you, they didn't have quite your luck. They were slapped around and pushed away, falling on their arses each time and you just watched from your place underneath it. It was said that you'd bewitched the Willow, forcing it to let you lie there almost every day, but the reality was you hadn't done a single thing. You weren't sure why it let you get so close while you worked on your homework, but it did.

You had figured it out accidentally, running around the grounds away from Lily as you held her newest love letter from James Potter. She was ready to throw it away without giving it a second thought, but you knew just how pure his intentions were, and believed he was right for her.

You were too busy laughing and looking behind you to notice where you were going, and paid no attention to Lily's screams telling you to stop, she'd been doing exactly so for the past two minutes but only jokingly. They were getting louder and less playful, and you didn't realize where you were until you tripped over the root of a tree.

Laughter had died out and you pushed yourself onto your hands and knees, you had dropped the letter below you. You turned your head looked up to see the Whomping Willow giving you what you could only describe as a menacing glare, or that's what you had interpreted it's details as, as fear took over your body and you froze.

It was quiet, as you waited for it to make a move to remove you from it's bark. It's branches waved back and forth in the air as the wind shoved past, pushing your hair out of your face. You took small and slow movements as you stood, holding the letter again. You didn't break the contact your eyes held with the branches.

Lily still stood a safe distance away, one hand reaching beneath her robes and gripping her wand for precaution. She took one step towards the tree, and after her second step the air became stiff. The branches had their own control and stopped swaying peacefully, and stood straight mimicking the hairs on the back of your neck.

She hesitated, but stepped again. One branch swung down and pushed her aside, not too harshly but enough to knock her down with a groan.

"Lily!" You called, watching as the wood retracted to it's usual place. You ran forward without care if the Willow was going to hit you or not.

At her side, you asked if she was okay. However, it was as if the world had gone entirely mute and she had forgotten about you as she just stared into the hole of the Willow tree.

You followed her gaze, shaking your head and extending your hand as you stood to pull her up with you. "Let's not worry about it, Lily, we got lucky."

Lily shoved her wand back in her pocket. "Strange..."

After that incident you had taken it upon yourself to study the Whomping Willow, and much to your surprise you seemed to be the only one that could get so close. It had become your own little tradition to seek out the tree when you wanted to be alone, and never came a time where you weren't welcomed.

You sat on a particularly large root now, legs crossed out in front of you with your charms book resting on top, you used it's hard cover as a surface for the paper you scribbled on.

Boisterous laughter broke your train of thought and disrupted your writing, the letter you were writing became smudged by the sudden flinch in your hand mid stroke. You looked up and saw two boys, one Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff jumping around and pushing each other as they arrived to the grass area.

"Oi! You looking to get slapped around? How'd you get up there?"

You glanced up with hooded eyes as you lifted your parchment and shoved it between two pages of your textbook. It was time to go, you had been compromised, and Potions would be starting soon.

It was your belief that you could only get so close because of intent, that's what the Whomping Willow saw in each student. It was magical after all, and you were sure that it wasn't only here to threaten student's lives, but protect them as well. It hadn't been your intent to hurt the tree when you ran towards it unknowingly, you didn't come to mock or prove your strength as a challenge with it, it was a mistake. The Willow must've seen that, or else you wouldn't be there.

"You think it broke?"

"A tree can't just break, you git."

A clock began to methodically chime and your eyes were drawn to the castle of a school. Lunch was over now and passing period was just beginning.

The boys began to turn around and walk, just as a branch extended and pushed the Ravenclaw down before retracting. It left a hint of a smile on your face as you collected your books thrown to the side and followed their trail to the school, listening to the Ravenclaw's complaints.

When reaching the school the two had turned down their own hall and you continued towards the dungeons, regretting not dropping off your charms book in your dorm before the class had started. It was feeling heavy and you were already late, you could tell as an owl squawked at you from the side of the hall and a sneer from an old painting.

Slipping through the wooden doors, the class turned and stared for a short time before realizing it was only you. Slughorn met your eyes but continued to teach his lesson at the front, prepping the class for their potions. You scanned the room quickly for an empty seat, to which you only found one at the front of the room next to Sirius Black.

He had been moved there from almost the second that first term started, too much noise was made in the back with his mates, Peter and James, and now they were all scattered throughout the room permanently. James was also in the first row, just on the complete opposite side, and Peter sat in the back.

You really had nothing against Sirius, but you didn't know what to expect when you slid into the stool next to him. He looked at you silently, eyes dropping down to your robes almost immediately. Making assumptions, you were sure. Not only because of your y/h colors, but from the small dirt stains from the tree and ground you had been up against a few minutes prior.

Slughorn's speech ended and you caught on to what he was saying, enough to know what precautions to take. You knew what to do with the help of your textbook, flipping to the right page slowly but surely as the other students grabbed their ingredients. Sirius stayed and scrubbed his cauldron without a word.

There was a tall figure shadowing you slightly, and you turned to see the disappointing expression on your Professor's face.

"This isn't the first time you've been late to my class, miss y/l/n," He chastised, "This calls for another detention."

"I know, Professor. See you on Friday," You gave him a thin-lipped smile. It annoyed him, his only response was a sigh and a shake of his head as he walked off.

Sirius raised an eyebrow as he set his scrub brush down on the table, "You know, if you stopped being so late, I reckon you could get out of these detentions."

You looked at him in slight disbelief, you really had expected him to ignore it, and now here he was giving you advice just to poke fun? "Pardon me?"

"Where do you run off to anyway?" He leaned forward, resting his head in the palm of his hand. "Shrieking Shack? Black Lake?"

What you had mistaken for arrogance was him trying to be funny, you realized, and it worked as you smiled and shook your head. "I would reckon so if I had gone mad. You realize none of this is your business, yeah?"

"I want it to be."

You rolled your eyes and stood up from your stool, off to grab the ingredients. "Only in your dreams, Black."

He continued to stare down the back of your head as you tucked glass jars in the space between your arms and your chest, clutching them. Until his head was pushed forward, he was so unprepared he almost hit the rim of the cauldron. He turned behind him to see Peter and James giggling as they rushed to their seats, and just as he rose from his seat with a determined and mischievous glare he was shot down.

"Mr. Black!"

The school hours had ended not long ago, and instead of books and quills in your possession, now all that you had was a letter stuffed in it's envelope. As you looked down at it, weaving it between your fingers, you realized just how bad your hands were shaking with nerves.

Your quest was to the Owlrey, the time it took to get there was tiring, especially with the steep path once you got to the rocky hill the tower was on. Trips were taken before and at first you had believed they would get easier, but they never did, the path only became memorized.

On your way you stepped past a pile of well-past brown leaves absentmindedly as you flipped over the letter and looked at it's dedication. The y/l/n's.

Behind you, you heard the crunch of fallen leaves and a few sticks tucked under the pile and you froze where you stood, looking behind you but you could see nothing past the curve on the spiral trail. Holding your breath, you could hear the sounds of heavy footsteps getting closer.

You slinked behind a boulder on the side of the hill, keeping your back pressed up against it as you waited for the student to pass. It was more than likely they didn't know you were here, either, and just on their way to deliver a letter of some sort. You remained curious, nevertheless.

Their steps became clearer and you waited, becoming more nervous than you knew you needed to be. A building anticipation as you began to pray to dear Merlin it wasn't Malfoy or Snape, but then you figured Malfoy was far too stuck up to get his hands dirty with a mere owl. He'd have one of his followers do the work for him, which was much less threatening.

A figure passed and for a second you swore it was Snape, first recognizing the long, jet black hair. But this student's was more free rather than slicked back and looking like it was glued to his head. Their hands were stuck in their pockets and they kept their eyes up, looking at the sky. You were able to catch their features, as well as the Gryffindor house colors on his tie.

An overdramatic, but playful sigh left your lips and your arms fell to your sides, "Are you serious?"

You surprised him, you could tell as he turned around and had his eyebrows pulled together in confusion for a short second, just before it turned into one of pride as a cheeky smirk took over, hoping you wouldn't notice that you caught him off guard. You knew you did.

"'Fraid so, darling. You waiting up for me?" Sirius cocked an eyebrow and walked down to where you were, still up against a rock. The steepness of the hill only made him taller than he already was, towering over you.

"More of catching my stalker," You corrected.

"You're hiding behind a boulder."

"You're following me up a mountain."

His mouth fell open as he failed to come up with a rebuttal to defend his actions, and it was your turn to smirk as you bumped your shoulder with his and continued on the trail. He was quick to turn around and follow your actions once again, slowing down when he reached your side.

Sirius kept his eyes on you, and then they fell to the letter in your hands that you kept on the opposite side of you, almost as if you were hiding it from him.

"Don't see why you're suddenly so curious to know of my whereabouts outside of class," You told him, enough courage filling your chest to ask such a question outright.

He cocked his head, "We've developed a rapport, wouldn't you say? Enough for me to feel free to irritate you as much as I please."

Scoffing, you shook your head and looked down at the yellowing grass. It was pushed down from all the times students, like yourself, had walked on it. At one point in time you had questioned why Hogwarts hadn't replaced it with stones, and then you realized the steepness of the hill was enough of a trek, rocks would just act as marbles.

"And I'm interested in you."

"Interested?" You echoed, you hadn't spoken much with Sirius, and told yourself there was no way he could catch feelings this soon. That day marked the first time you had spoken to him in class as well as out of it.

"Of course, it's not a everyday you meet someone as mysterious and secretive as you, love."

You exhaled relief. He was just curious. The two of you finally met the Owlrey structure, stepping on to the smooth concrete with scattered feathers all around, some still falling from the birds in the sky.

"I wouldn't say I'm mysterious, but I do like my privacy," You playfully glared at him as you walked backwards through the open doorway just to face him.

It was much darker inside even with the open spaces for the owls to get in and out, there was no definite life source other than the sun which was currently covered by dull clouds. Unlike outside, feathers here were grouped together and piled high, but swept out of the way for some space to walk. Owls sat in their respective spaces and watched the two look up and marvel at the building.

You searched for your own, Jives. He had a particular brown spot covering his left wing and a white line that swirled on his stomach. It was hard to miss.

Silence took over the two of you, only listening to the flutter and hoots of the owls around you. Sirius watched as you looked up and brought two fingers to your lips, a loud whistle echoing off the concrete.

Jives peeked his head out of where he was perched in one of the compartments, swooping down and landing on one of the sills at eye level. His head tilted as he watched you step over a pile of feathers and approached him, you stroked his feathers as you whispered the address to him.

Sirius waited patiently, body up against a pillar next to an owl that he shared a glance with, and then a shrug. When he looked at you again, your owl had taken off and you rested your head in your arms as you watched him go.

"Pen pal?" He questioned as he sauntered up beside you, mimicking your stance as he looked up at the sky. The birds circled and perched themselves on the roof of the Owlrey, their feathers floating down slowly but surely just out of your reach.

"Parents," You corrected him.

He hummed. For a second he didn't say anything. "What's it about?"

You whipped your head to him with raised eyebrows, "You saying it's not normal to write your parents?"

"Not for me." You rolled your eyes, turning around and beginning to leave the building. He followed you out the doors, stepping over the feathers. "Why so secretive? Planning to take over the school? You a death eater? Madly in love with Inverse Pinocchio?"

You couldn't stop the laughter that bubbles in your throat as you shook your head. "All of the above."

He laughed as well, catching up beside you. "I don't suppose you'll be letting up any time soon."

"You're getting better at this."

#sirius black x reader #sirius black one shot #reader x sirius black #reader x marauders #marauders x reader #marauders era #marauders imagine #sirius black imagine #harry potter imagine

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hermannsthumb · 5 years

Note

Vacation au prompt?? Hermann’s trying to relax at the beach and keeps getting distracted by a certain tattooed surfer who seems like they can’t actually surf very well...

HEHE...... ;)))))))) also i should mention the description of newt’s cottage is a very real cottage just down the road from the beach house im staying in now

------------------------------------------

The point of it all is that Hermann needs to relax. That’s what his colleagues told him. That he’s too high-strung, too tense, too fixated on his work. He needs to make friends. He (bachelor he is) needs to meet Someone. He needs a break. He needs a vacation. Maybe there’s truth to it--in Hermann’s ten years as a professor, and his five years holed up in various laboratories before that, he has never once taken a break. He’s never once taken time to enjoy himself outside of his numbers and his chalkboards (which he really does enjoy).

Whatever Hermann’s reasoning, the semester’s end has tossed three months of absolutely nothing to do into his lap once more, and--instead of locking himself away in his home office with his research, as he typically might--he dips into his untouched and expansive savings account and rents himself a beach cottage. It’s quiet, and quaint, just like the town it’s in, barely more than a single bed, bathroom, and kitchen. It’s just what he thinks he needs. The sea air will be good for his joints, perhaps, particularly his leg. He can get a little sun. He’s always so dreadfully pale.

He experiences a few major setbacks the moment he reaches the town.

There is the cottage, which is far more unkempt than the photographs online led Hermann to believe. The porch is sagging badly, with wooden planks that creak worryingly beneath Hermann’s feet; the front lock sticks; the hot water takes a good minute to kick in; the showerhead leaks. (The bed, at least, is comfortable, and there is a pleasant view of the ocean from one of the two windows.) Then there is the matter of the sun and the sea breeze, or really the lack thereof--it rains the entirety of his first week, and Hermann does not leave the cottage (which also leaks, he discovers) once. It’s fine, really. He brought his research just in case, so it’s not as if he’ll get bored.

The sun reemerges on a rather breezy Tuesday, though it’s weak and watery, and only in bursts behind clouds, which means it’s an ideal day to finally make the quick trek down to the beach and get set on properly relaxing. No threat of sunburn. Hermann applies sunblock and shrouds himself in white linen and a sunhat anyway just in case.

It’s difficult to navigate across the sand with his cane at first, but Hermann manages eventually, and he sets up his chair on the flattest looking spot he can find and settles in to read his book. It’s a good beach day all around, by virtue of it being a bad beach day for anyone else--no shrieking children or obnoxious teenagers. It’s practically deserted.

Practically.

There has been a man surfing since Hermann got here. Or perhaps trying to surf--he has not, in fact, successfully caught a single wave. Or really even managed to stand up on his board (which is painted an eye-stinging neon green). Hermann watches him slip off of it no less than three times; on attempt number four, he manages to crouch, at least until he’s wiped out again. It’s like some sort of terrible trainwreck. Hermann can’t bring himself to look away. On attempt number eight, the wave that hits the man is big enough to drag him and his surfboard all the way to the shore, and he hits the wet sand with an audible smack that makes Hermann wince. When he doesn’t immediately pop back up, Hermann sighs, tosses aside his book, and prepares to struggle across more sand.

He’s still laying on his stomach by the time Hermann gets to him. He looks as if he’s still breathing, so he probably hasn’t snapped his neck or anything like that. “Are you alright?” Hermann says, and, after a second, prods the man’s arm with the end of his cane.

“Peachy,” the man mumbles. “Why’d you ask?”

“It looked painful, is all,” Hermann says. “I wanted to make sure you were--well, conscious.”

The man turns himself over with a small groan, and--even through the layer of sand that coats his forehead and nose, and despite his wild wet mass of hair--Hermann is startled to find he’s quite attractive. Hazel eyes. Freckled, unshaven cheeks. A nice roundness about him that his tight swim trunks accentuate. Torso and arms full of extensive, elaborate tattoos. He squints at Hermann for a few seconds in what looks like mild confusion. “Aw, fuck. I lost my glasses.”

There’s a black, chunky-framed pair of eyeglasses sticking out of the sand next to the man. Hermann flicks them towards him with his cane, though, privately, he can’t begin to wonder how the man thought it was a good idea to take them in with him. “Are these yours?”

The man fumbles along the ground for a few moments and lets out a triumphant little shout when he touches the frames. He slides them on and blinks at Hermann; then his face splits into a wide grin. “Hey, there.”

“Hello,” Hermann says, warily.

“I’m Newt,” the man says. He wipes a great deal of sand off of his face and smooths back his hair. “Uh. Did you see me surfing?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it surfing,” Hermann says, and Newt laughs.

“It’s my first day,” he says. “I know I suck. Still. Not bad, I don’t think, for a first day.”

“Mm,” Hermann says. He fidgets. “Well, if you’re fine, I really ought to be--”

Newt scrambles to his feet. At full height, he’s much shorter than Hermann realized. “What’s your name?” he says. “Since you saved me and all, I feel like it’s only fair if I know.”

His smile is even nicer up close. Hermann clears his throat. “Dr. Hermann Gottlieb,” he says, wondering if he should mention that he really did nothing, in fact, and certainly didn’t save Newt from anything. “I’m--ah--I’ve just gotten here.”

“Doctor,” Newt says. “Hey, me too. The doctor part, I mean, I live here. I study marine biology. Perfect place for it, right? It’s amazing to study all this shit in its--” He wiggles his hand. “Natural habitat. I watched sea turtles hatch last week. Dr. Newton Geiszler. Please just keep calling me Newt, though, I hate--the whole thing. Can I just call you Hermann? Unless you want the whole thing. I like the name Hermann.”

“Mm,” Hermann says again.

Newt rubs the back of his neck, deflating a little. “So. Uh. What do you study?”

“Astrophysics,” Hermann says.

“Cool,” Newt says. “Here for vacation, then?”

“For around three months,” Hermann says. “It’s...nice,” he finishes, lamely. It’s not a lie. He supposes it has the potential to be nice around here eventually. He might even enjoy himself at one point. “It was nice to meet you, Newton.” He nods at Newt, hoping he takes the hint, and turns to leave.

Newt does not take the hint. “Newt,” Newt corrects, trailing after him, surf board in tow. “Hey, do you mind if I sit with you?”

Hermann gives a sigh, though he finds he does not truly abhor the idea of spending a little more time with the strange little man. “I suppose not,” he says.

“Sweet,” Newt says. He plops down next to Hermann’s beach chair and stretches his arms above his head, grunting a little with the effort. Hermann looks away quickly. “Where are you staying, by the way?”

“The small yellow cottage at the end of the road.”

“The really shitty one?” Newt says. Hermann bristles; Newt grins sheepishly. “Sorry. I mean the, uh, charming little one?”

“That’s the one,” Hermann says. He hums. “It is somewhat...different than I expected.” He can put up with the leaky roof and sagging floor for the price he got. Practically a steal.

“I bet,” Newt says. “Anyway, we’re neighbors. I have the one across from you.”

Hermann winces a little. Of course Newt does--of course he owns the equally tiny and equally dilapidated bright turquoise monstrosity across the street from Hermann, the one with sea creatures and tropical flora painted all up the sides, the overgrown shrubbery, the multiple surfboards stacked on the sparse grass. “That’s yours?” he says. He should’ve recognized Newt’s handiwork: the sea creatures inked across Newt’s arms and chest are startling similar to those on the cottage.

“Sure is,” Newt says, grin turning cheeky.

“It’s certainly...unique,” Hermann says.

Newt doesn’t say anything after that, so Hermann makes a show of picking up his book, shaking off the sand, and flipping to the page he marked off. He gets a paragraph before Newt starts to run his mouth again. “You know, there are some really cool tidepools further down the beach. Ten minute walk, maybe. If you wanted to look at them--”

Hermann snaps his book shut; Newt recoils. “Newton. I appreciate your--friendliness, but I really would like to finish this chapter, so if you wouldn’t mind--”

“Sorry!” Newt stammers, guiltily. “Sorry, sorry. Of course. I’ll shut up.”

He does. In fact, he even goes as far as to slink off back to the shoreline. Hermann, book forgotten, watches him poke around at the shells pushed there by high tide and occasionally pocket some. He also watches the way Newt’s swim trunks pull taut over his ass each time he bends over. It’s as if he’s doing it on purpose--as if he knows Hermann is sneaking glances, and wants to put on a show.

Hermann pretends to be deeply invested in his book when Newt returns. He also pretends that his ears and cheeks aren’t burning a bright pink. A wet hand prods Hermann’s arm. “Ah. Yes?” Hermann says, eyes flicking up.

Newt is presenting a small piece of fossilized coral, some seaglass, and a miniature conch shell barely larger than his fingernail out to him. He looks embarrassed. “Here.”

“Is this--?”

“It’s for you,” Newt says, and, wordlessly, Hermann takes all three from him. “Sorry I was being an annoying dick. I don’t have many people to talk to, and I got--excited.”

“Oh,” Hermann says. He rubs his thumb over the seaglass. It’s the same shade as the flecks of green in Newt’s eyes. Something warm bubbles in Hermann’s chest. “Er. Newton. Where were those tidepools?”

Newt is more than eager to lead him off down the beach, and twice as much so to talk his ear off and interrogate him about anything that comes to his mind. The seaglass and coral has put Hermann in a good mood and he answers it all readily. Newt plays the ukulele; Hermann can’t, but he was forced into piano lessons as a child, and has retained the skill into adulthood. Newt loves jellyfish and starfish and swimming; Hermann loves his telescope. Newt bicycles everywhere, because he never learned to drive; Hermann drives everywhere, because he could never bicycle. Newt is single. Hermann is single.

Neither says anything for a few moments after this last revelation. Hermann is mildly surprised; as talkative and, er, bold as Newt is, he is fairly attractive, and someone other than Hermann must’ve taken an interest in those pretty eyes and round freckled cheeks by now. To say nothing of his obvious enthusiasm for his field of study, which Hermann finds fairly attractive as well.

(Hermann, to a slightly greater extent, is also pleased by this revelation.)

“Here we are!” Newt suddenly exclaims, and he squats down on a rock at the edge of one of the tidepools. It’s large, the size of a small swimming pool, but the water is clear and shallow and Hermann can see the bottom without a problem. He can see why Newt brought him here, too; there are about three starfish scattered across in it, as well as some strange, fuzzy-looking plants. Right up Newt’s alley of interests.

“Lovely,” Hermann says. Newt’s hair has dried since his disastrous attempts at surfing, and he can see now that it’s a nice shade of brown, lighter than Hermann’s own, and wavy and soft-looking. The breeze ruffles it gently. He realizes Newt’s talking to him. “Ah. What did you say?”

Newt flashes him another grin. “I said--” He leans in closer to the tidepool, index finger extended in the direction of one of the fuzzy plants (he wears several rope bracelets around his wrist), and immediately slips off the rock and into the water with a yelp.

Hermann startles. “Newton!”

Newt pops up with his knees bunched up to his chest, one hand pressing his glasses to his face. He’s laughing. “I’m good,” he says. He pushes his hair back. “I think I gave the starfish a fucking heart attack, but I’m good.”

Hermann inches his way across the slippery rocks, his own free hand outstretched. “Here, Newton, let me--”

The end of his cane hits air; he flings his arms out, uselessly, in an attempt to steady himself, and then topples forward right on top of Newt.

Newt, to his credit, does try to catch him.

The water is not as cold as Hermann expected, though it shocks him anyway, and his trousers and shirt are soaked almost instantly; his sunhat is swept clean off his head; his cane clatters against the rocks; he lands with his face pressed to Newt’s shoulder, in Newt’s outstretched arms, Newt’s widened eyes mere inches away. More shocking than the water is how warm Newt is, though. Warm and solid. He smells like saltwater--to be expected--and sweat. “Shit, dude!” Newt exclaims, tugging at the white linen at Hermann’s back. “Are you okay?”

Hermann struggles to push himself up. Not because the rocky tidepool bottom beneath them is slippery, which it is, but because he’s laughing too damned hard. “I’m terribly sorry,” he wheezes, “I don’t know--”

Newt’s concern melts away; he, too, starts giggling a little. “No worries,” he says. “Uh. Let’s just--”

They manage to make it out of the tidepool eventually, after a great deal of splashing and slipping, and Hermann is reunited with his cane and sunhat. None of the starfish appear to have been harmed. The same can’t be said for Hermann’s white linen, unfortunately; he doubts he’ll ever wash the grey tinge of seawater out of them. He’s not too upset about it.

Hermann allows Newt to take his arm on the walk back, after their fingers brush together a few times and Newt casts several shy, obvious glances down at their hands. He’s finding himself strangely charmed by Newt. Even strangely fond. "I’ve been meaning to ask,” Newt says, still so shy. “Uh. Would you want to--I mean--there are plenty of good spots for dinner, and it’s getting late--”

Hermann squeezes Newt’s arm and gives him a small smile. “Yes,” he says.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #to borrow the tag:#manic pixie dream scientist #Anonymous

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virmillion · 6 years

Text

What Was Missing

me? writing something unrelated to what i’m supposed to be working on again? it’s more likely than you think // aka i had another idea and wrote it down and hopefully it doesn’t suck // TLDR i try to write with some different tools and it maybe isnt terrible but i guess we’ll find out (@ the limericks, im lookin at you)

a n g s t (or at least my attempt at it)

Pairings: none, maybe prinxiety if you squint

Warnings: blood mention, lots of yelling, character death (sort of), let me know if you see any more

Word count: 4k ish

It started as most problems do in the mindscape—a sudden absence, a feeling that something was missing. Something, someone, who really knew anymore? With Roman gallivanting off to his room every odd day to fight another dragon witch, his booming voice was rarely missed so much as endured when it was present. Logan, research in hand, was oft to chain himself to a desk and not back away until his eyes were burning, eyelids heavier than his textbooks. Patton, so concerned with keeping everything together among the other three, rarely had a chance to shut himself away for some peace and quiet, no no no, his responsibilities were too great. But one day, one certain day that had no peculiar charm nor supernatural air about it, his duties felt… shorter, somehow. There was less to be taken care of, but Patton could not for the life of him tell you why. At least, not until the gaping hole demanded it be noticed, not until it was screaming so hard and so loud, Patton might well have gone deaf in its efforts. The only problem with it being so loud and so insistent lies within its very nature—this absence is not the sort to announce itself, so much as it is the type to slink away quietly, to duck out when nobody’s looking. Maybe this is why Patton initially seeks out Roman to inquire about his relaxed day. Maybe this is why Logan didn’t set down his research quickly enough. Maybe this is why they were too late.

“Hey there, kiddo,” Patton says one unremarkable morning, knocking gently on Roman’s door. The emptiness down the hall screams bloody murder, all consuming to each of Patton’s senses. Maybe this is why Patton is too disoriented to realize that, for once, Roman isn’t the source of the noise. Maybe this is why Roman cautiously eases the door open, one hand resting on the hilt of his blade, only to be met with the concerned face of the moral side.

“What’s up, Patton?” Roman replies, widening the door like screaming jaws as he lets his hand relax a bit from the sword. Not all the way, though.

“Something just feels off, y’know?” Patton struggles to put into words his feelings, his subconscious distracted by the cries and yells and shouts. “It’s as if the last few days have been really, I don’t know, simple? I haven’t had to do as much, and it just doesn’t feel right.”

“Can’t say I understand,” Roman apologizes. “Now if you’ll excuse me, there is a dragon witch I really must be off to see. If you could be so kind?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Patton nods, backing out of the room as Roman draws his sword. Maybe the door closes too quickly for Roman to notice the strained look in Patton’s eyes, or the way he can’t quite seem to stop tugging his ear, like too much sound is being absorbed at once. Maybe the finality of Roman’s door slamming shut is what steers Patton away from what could have saved the absence.

At Logan’s room across the hall, Patton doesn’t bother with knocking on the door that’s already ajar, instead walking straight through the impossibly clean room to the hunched figure in the chair. It jerks awake as Patton taps it lightly on the shoulder, revealing Logan huddled under a mass of blankets, his eyes swollen pits of red and grey from inadequate sleep. The same blanket is bunched around the base of his chair as when Patton put it there two nights ago.

“What is it, Patton?” Logan demands, his eye twitching gently. Maybe it’s from overworking himself. Maybe he hears the cries, too. “I have very important work to be doing here, as you should very well know.”

“Well, yes,” Patton admits, “but you look as if the only work you’ve been doing is catching up on the sleep you never get. I had something else to bring up with you, but, um,” he glances over at Logan’s pristine bed, looking as impeccable as if it had never been slept in before. Patton has a sneaking suspicion this might be the case, but maybe he’s just a little tired, too.

“I have absolutely no requirement for such frivolous endeavours as sleep,” Logan scowls, disgust lacing every word. “You most of all should know that we hardly require any of that human nonsense, from sleep to hydration to food. With all of your silly baking festivities, I would expect you to have figured that out already.” Patton bites his lip before he can make some sort of joke out of the situation, knowing quite well that this isn’t the time. Maybe there’s never really a time to make a joke with any of them. Maybe the yells are in his head, and he just needs to let them pass over, like an angry storm cloud.

In his own room, Patton takes a few deep breaths, desperate to let the warm lights in his room soak through his skin, make the noises go away. Why should he be desperate, anyway? He’s had so much extra time, he got to see everyone in the mindscape today! Roman, and Logan, and—and—and—and—

The lights suddenly get brighter, too bright, as the yells crescendo, turning into shouts into screams then back into cries into sobs into whimpers into silence. Patton rubs his temples gently. Maybe he’s just overworked. Maybe he’s just exaggerating the problem. Lots of people hear things that aren’t there. You’re not a person, Patton. Patton knows this. He knows that he’s not human, that there’s no reason for baking or sleeping or drinking, but it’s all in good fun. All for enjoyment. The yelling is not enjoyment. He did not ask for the yelling. In fact, he would much prefer to have the yelling silence itself. Maybe he’ll go take care of it himself.

It’s impossibly cold out here

Way up on the highest tier

Why haven’t they come?

It’s all so numb

Why can you not recall the year?

“Now where is that blasted dragon witch?” Roman mutters to himself, stalking silently through the cattail reeds, sword drawn. Itching for something, anything, to fight, Roman lashes out at a blade of grass in front of him. Before he can mow it down, the noise returns. Quite obnoxious, to be frank, but indelible nonetheless. It skewers through his skull, screaming as his sword swings, stopping it short to smack the grass blade and allowing the green spike to swipe back at him, scratching the side of his face. Louder, louder, the noise mumbles and moans and mourns and Roman must move on, make more progress meeting his maker in the scaled madam making her monstrosities as Roman remains in the reeds. The noise gets louder. Roman chops through the sea of grass. The screams cut across his clothes, criss-crossing so crassly the prince can almost catch the cutlass in his hand.

Somewhere ahead, a dragon roars, undercut by a woman’s scream. Not a damsel in distress. This damsel is the distress. Damn. Roman throws his arms over his head, squeezes his biceps, anything to make that screaming shut up. Not enough. He backs carefully out of his room, head pounding, sword thrown haphazardly in its scabbard, and the whole package is tossed into the reeds. That’s a problem for later. Roman’s head pounds harder, hurting, hurts oh God help him he heaves with his hands on his knees hearing every helpless howl hammering through his head help him please help.

In the lounge, the furthest room possible from the yelling screaming cursing crying, Roman collapses upon a couch. Something under his back, sharp and prodding, makes him sit up. A pair of bulky headphones. Now where on earth could these have come from? Regardless of the reason, Roman slips them over his ears, expecting some sort of punk song to carry him away, tuning out the cries for help.

Why though? Why does he expect a punk song to come on? He doesn’t even know where these headphones came from, any more than he can explain away the screaming that grows ever louder. Why is it so. Loud?

“Oh thank gosh Roman you’re out here,” Patton sighs in relief, stumbling into the lounge area with one fist curled against his head. Worry lines etch themselves into his face, deeper than if they’d been there for years. Replacing something else that was there for years. Or never there. “Why are you just sitting down? I’d expect you to at least be doing something exciting.”

“I am, I’m listening to the—the head—the headphones—the headphones.” Roman’s voice trips over itself, warping and warbling, where were the headphones why wasn’t he holding the headphones was he ever holding the headphones why weren’t they there when were they there?

“Okay buddy, whatever you say,” Patton smiles, not seeming to notice the little… we’ll call it a glitch… in Roman’s system. “Want some cookies?”

“Don’t you do anything else besides bake?” Roman sneers. Something pushes at his mind, the yelling, thoughts, something, but it screams and cries to stop, not to get going on an argument he wants no part in. The yelling is louder. “Last I checked, we all had real duties to perform to help Thomas, and making cookies at the drop of a hat isn’t exactly a useful skill to a living person with real thoughts and feelings.” Roman gives Patton a once-over, suddenly standing—when did he stand up he was supposed to be sitting down—and continues, ignoring the hurt welling up in his companion’s eyes. “Oops, I guess that would imply that you, feelings, are real. My bad.” Stop it Roman stop hurting him stop it!

“Right. I’ll just, um, I’m just gonna be over, y’know, somewhere that isn’t, uh, isn’t in here.” Patton rushes out, both hands pressed against his face now. Roman sags a bit, sitting standing sitting standing kneeling sitting standing sitting standing sitting sitting sitting sit still. Bounce bounce bounce back and forth between being everywhere and being nowhere and being everything in between. The screaming increases. Help.

It’s probably been but a day

You were always just in the way

They don’t know it’s you

Your screams coming through

Forgotten, you may as well stay

“Honestly, how am I expected to get important work done for Thomas when I’m plagued by that infernal sound?” Logan mutters, whipping the blanket off of his back. Who does Patton think he is, intruding on Logan’s privacy like that without asking? The blanket is still in the way, rumpled in a heap over his feet, so Logan does the most logical thing he can think of—kicking it across the room, getting progressively more pissed each time it doesn’t cooperate by breaking the laws of physics. Is that really so much to ask?

The blanket finally beaten into submission, Logan makes for the commons, a permanent grimace set upon his face as the yelling recedes behind him. Expecting a calm scene in which he can bask in silence, Logan is sorely disappointed by what greets him in the lounge; Patton staring at a wall, motionless, and Roman sitting standing sitting standing not holding still. How displeasing.

“Have you two seriously lost your grip so easily?” Logan demands, freezing Roman in place and getting Patton to snap his head over. “Regardless of why this sound is occurring, we all need to work together to resolve it.”

“All?” Roman asks. Patton echoes him, softer and more unsure.

“Yes. All.”

“But we aren’t all here.”

“I can’t say I understand what you mean. You, me, and Patton. All.”

“But that’s not, I mean, it isn’t like we just—”

“Roman, I have never known you to fumble for words so largely as this,” Logan scolds. “All. Three of us. That is all. Now, if you’re done with whatever your situation is, we really need to get back to the task at hand—getting rid of that sound.” Roman casts his eyes down, face burning, but he’s finally sitting down, and staying that way. The cries get louder.

“Patton, care to share your input?” Patton mutters something about the days being easier, the same spiel he fed Logan not long before. “Not that. Something useful would be nice.” Patton quiets, biting his lip. A tinge of something, regret perhaps, floods through Logan for a split second, but just as quickly, it vanishes.

“Okay. Alright. What’s missing?” Logan tries. His glasses slip down his nose. He does not adjust them.

“It’s really loud,” Roman offers, “so it must have been important.”

“Then why can’t I remember it?” Patton hisses, gripping his forehead tightly. His fingers go white. Louder.

“Maybe it was just annoying, and this is its lingering irritation,” Logan says.

“It’s down at the end of the hall with our rooms,” Patton begins, flinching at nearly every word. Too loud. Make it stop. “Maybe we could investigate down there?”

“I second it,” Roman replies. “It’s as good a place to start as any.” As one, not dissimilar to a hive mind, the trio rises—when did Logan sit down?—and move toward the screeching. Ice cold laces through their blood, frozen fingers creeping down their backs as their ears seem to split. If you asked them later, none of the three could tell you whether their feet walked them down the hall, or the room pulled itself closer, using their agony as a grappling point. Louder. Deafening. One way or another, they arrive at the screaming door, vibrating from the noises coursing through it, all amplified by the door itself. The bravest of the bunch, Roman, cowers in fear. He’s not about to touch that monstrosity. The brain of the bunch, Logan, knows in his mind that the door can’t really hurt him. He does not reach for the handle. Patton. Patton stretches a hand, fingers trembling as the sound leaps across the axons and the dendrites to his nails and skitters through his bones, weaving between muscles and fat to fill him up until he’s gasping, choking, overflowing. Patton opens his mouth to let it escape, and the screeching heightens. Louder. Louder. LOUDER.

Screaming and crying and shouting and moaning all at once, Patton wrestles the door handle down and presses forward, first with the handle, then his other hand, and his shoulder and his foot and Logan and Roman join in, pounding the door that refuses to give way to their attacks on it.

The handle shatters in Patton’s hand.

The screaming stops.

A soft sigh takes its place.

Then silence.

They’re actually trying to look

All because your voice is a hook

Here you remain

Your ears unstained

Maybe now you should close the book

Patton glances at the shards of metal in his hand, then back to Logan and Roman. He’s so stunned, he almost can’t feel the edges digging into his skin, feel the tiny red pearls beading at the surface. He holds them tighter, trying desperately to hold onto what the three all realized before it can vanish again.

Virgil.

We forgot Virgil.

“Patton, your hand,” Roman murmurs, looking at the offending body part that refuses to let go of the handle, refuses to let go of what he can’t believe he forgot. Maybe he doesn’t deserve to remember.

“We need to get that wrapped up,” Logan adds. He takes Patton gently by his free hand, pulling him down the hall toward the commons, where they keep a few first aid kits, just in case.

We forgot Virgil.

Suddenly, Patton is in the commons, barely wincing as Logan carefully wraps bandages around his hand, Roman extracting the shards of metal as he goes. Maybe each stab is a fraction of what Virgil felt.

We forgot Virgil.

Maybe Virgil forgot them.

Patton looks on blankly as Logan finishes, gently tightening the wrapping and tying it off. “We need to help him,” he mumbles. Logan waves it off, checking the floor for any lost metal pieces. “We need to help him.”

“We need to figure out why he’s gone first,” Logan retorts. “We don’t know why he left, and we don’t want to make it worse. At least it’s finally quiet.”

We forgot Virgil.

“Yeah, remember how we left it last?” Roman cuts in. Patton shakes his head.

“It all kind of went foggy right up until that screaming.” Virgil’s screaming.

“There was an argument,” Logan begins.

“Thomas was having a social problem,” Patton continues.

“He was worrying,” Roman fills in.

“We told him off.”

“He went silent.”

“Didn’t even fight back.”

“Sank out.”

“No sarcasm.”

We forgot Virgil.

“We need to help him.”

“We still only have the vaguest of reasons for his disappearance,” Logan says. “We cannot afford to make it any worse, if this is the least we’ve seen of what is involved with a missing Virgil.” A missing Virgil. A thing to be fixed. Not a friend to be found.

“Maybe the room will tell us,” Patton whispers. Grasping at straws. Anything.

We forgot Virgil.

“Right, the room that shattered the thing you need to get inside of it. Brilliant, Patton, truly a work of genius,” Roman sneers, bouncing between sitting and standing again.

“Not the time for attitude,” Logan reprimands. “It’s the only idea we have to go off of, so we may as well, given the lack of success shown by ignoring the noise.”

“Not noise. Virgil.” Patton sniffles.

We forgot Virgil.

Patton is the first to rise and head for the door with no handle, now a deafening silence in contrast to the aching screams of earlier. Logan follows, all efficiency and strategy, despite the fact that no one is really sure what to do next.

“Even if we find out why he’s missing, that won’t bring him back,” Roman complains. “Besides, do we really need the Edgelord back?” Patton clenches his undamaged fist in an effort not to do something he’ll regret later.

Through gritted teeth, he spits, “of course we need him back. He’s one of us.”

With no small amount of discomfort in the air, the trio makes their way to the silent door, each peering down and squishing in to try to see through the hole left by the door handle.

Only gaping space beyond.

You know, it’s really not so bad like this

They claim to regret, yet remain remiss

You like being alone

This could be a home

This is how you leave, vanished like a wisp

“Move aside,” Roman orders, stepping back with his sword drawn. Patton and Logan leap out of the way of the door as Roman charges. He raises his sword, giving a battle cry, and barrels forward.

The door opens.

Roman’s momentum carries him through, swinging his sword regardless as the door slams shut behind him. Patton and Logan remain outside.

His sword goes flying into an endless abyss of stars and blackness. The red sash across his white attire tightens, constricting and squeezing like a viper before completely tearing off at the shoulder. Now a limp ribbon, it follows the sword into nothingness.

“What’s going on?” Roman attempts, but his voice is too hoarse, too small, lost in everything and nothing. The world around him seems to expand by the second, nothingness multiplying by nothingness exponentially. Silent.

Where is Virgil?

Sound.

Behind him.

Roman turns to where the door is—was. Gone. Above it, a strip of nothingness with no stars in it. A silhouette against the shining lights. Roman blinks, shakes his head, blinks again, and he’s suddenly beside the silhouette, looking out at an endless expanse of space. He turns his head.

Virgil.

Before Roman can open his mouth, offer an explanation, ask for a reason, Virgil punches him in the face.

Hard.

Roman goes down.

Hard.

Virgil disappears, and the world splinters.

And shatters.

“Just shut up! Thomas doesn’t need you dragging him down like this!”

“I hate to say it, kiddo, but Roman’s right. You really don’t need to be so… much.”

“Indeed, your excessive overtime is dragging all of us down with you. Don’t you suppose you might feel better if you were to, perhaps, lay low? Stay quiet?”

They’re always demanding your silence

They never consider emotions violence

Their words will bite

Don’t put up a fight

Just seclude yourself on your islands

“Too good to talk back? Come on Virgil, where’s that dry wit? Hit me with it! Hit me!”

“Roman, don’t taunt him. We don’t want him to get worse.”

“It may not be in our best interest to discuss this in front of him.”

You think your words aren’t ringing

Hatred in their bite stinging

But please have no fear

I’ll soon not be here

Not even a bell left dinging

“I wish he’d just leave, we’d all be better off and he knows it.”

“Now Roman—”

“I don’t think you should—”

“I hate him.”

Roman blinks again, finally remembering.

Why did he say that? It was a moment of weakness and stupidity, and he wants nothing more than to take it back. A little hard to do, given that Virgil is nowhere to be seen. Just space. The vast sky. And Roman. Alone. No sword. No sash. No purpose. What did you do?

“I just want to know one thing,” a voice whispers, coming from every direction at once. Impossibly quiet, to the point that Roman has to strain to hear it. “Why did you say it?” The drawling, apathetic tone, in a voice otherwise identical to his own, it has to be Virgil.

“I didn’t mean it, it was just the heat of the moment, I swear—” Roman babbles.

“I didn’t ask for excuses. I asked for a reason.”

“I don’t have one! Because I’m stupid, okay? That’s why.”

“Unfortunate.”

Roman waits with bated breath for the voice to come back, even just to yell at him some more, anything but being alone in this room.

Silence.

Alone.

Please come back.

Waiting.

“I just wanted to see the stars.” Roman glances to the right—the voice actually had a concentrated source this time. “You all forgot me, but no one forgets the stars.” A constellation takes shape in the distance, a vague silhouette of Virgil, unless Roman is just kidding himself. “No one forgets you.”

Before he can respond, Roman watches the world fall apart again, depositing him on the ground in an endless white space. He can’t tell where the walls end and the ceiling begins. The only thing standing out in this room, besides himself, is the black lacquer door. Stabbed through its center is his sword, his red sash twined around it.

The voice doesn’t come back.

Roman yanks the sword from the door with little resistance, fixing the sash over his shoulder. The door swings open. Patton and Logan are gone. He heads for the common area. Logan’s nose is buried in a book, while Patton stands at the counter icing cookies.

“Patton? Where’s, uh, where are your bandages?” Roman asks, looking at the hand that appears perfectly healed.

“Weird joke, Roman. Is that the kind of humor that’s hip with the kids these days?” Patton twirls an icing bag in the air. “I can be hip.”

“Logan, have you seen Virgil?” Roman asks as he moves out of the kitchen, leaving Patton to his cookies.

“Seen whom?” Logan doesn’t look up from his reading.

“Virgil! Anxiety? Hot Topic? Edgelord? J-Delightful?” Logan lifts an eyebrow and peers at Roman over his book.

“I will admit to not often utilizing humor, but even I know that this is not it.”

Roman leans against the back of the couch, suddenly unsteady as his mind is hit with too many thoughts at once. The most important one, the only one that truly matters, pierces his skull like so many unheard screams and cries.

They forgot Virgil.

Tag List:

@sakurahayasaki @erlenmeyertrash @lemonpepperpizza @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @milomeepit /// im gonna tag some other people that didnt ask to be because everyone knows i c r a v e validation @asexual-trashbag @tinysidestrashcaptain @notafeeling @the-prince-and-the-emo @princeyandanxiety @fallingamor @prinxietys sorry if you didnt want to be tagged feel free to ignore this

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system-architect · 6 years

Note

Am i allowed 2 ask t4 for all of them.....

yOU ARE....... god............... T4 is a fun one to answer questions for because its a mixture of T4 headcanons and arkk himself headcanons

♥ - What does ‘love’ mean to them? hhJGKHD he’s...... Very Inexperienced with love so i think he’s still figuring that out............. the general concept of love is an exciting but very alien thing for him... i think he mostly just associates it w/ buzzy excited feelings and affection in general but still has yet to chew on deeper meanings

♠ - What are they afraid of? A Lot............................ god..... destabilizing, having his loop reset, never gettin out of Mists Hell Cage, and despite being aware that he’s an echo i think he’s still fearful he’ll like. never see his mom again or save her... i think he still wants that on some level

♦ - What is one thing about them that they are most proud of? he’s arkk.. he’s very proud of his Immense Intelligence and Immeasurable Genius and Undeniable Prowess........... additionally! weirdly proud of the innate stubbornness he inherited even if he won’t necessarily admit that he’s stubborn. but it’s gotten him through a lot of shit

♣ - What is one thing that they find embarrassing? (About them, others, things in general) t4/arkk is a Sore Fuckin Loser god i can see him turning beet red whenever tourists thwart him in fractals... and then lashin out with snark and overkill in reaction to his own embarrassment....... i think he also gets sort of embarrassed about his own shortcomings or moments where he’s more weak-willed than he wants to be... i think he goes through cycles where he flings himself at something pretty hard and doesn’t quite succeed and gets gloomy and embarrassed about it and then comes back to go at it again at least twice as hard

★ - Do they prefer daytime or nighttime and why? i think in general arkk prefers nighttime bc edgy BUT t4 just.. misses Both at this point. nightmare frac has no discernable time, his lab in SO is In Space and has no discernable time but glaring bright sun mismatched with The Void, and his and t3s chaos isles was and is day on one side and night on the other. the lack of flowing linear time and lack of proper solar/lunar cycles for sleep purposes is driving him really stir crazy by this point i think

☾- Are they prone to nightmares or dreamless sleep? both...... for reasons above and then also bc of anxiety/trauma/etc i think he often gets pretty terrible sleep and struggles with it a good bit

☼ - Something that/Someone who makes them happy. OH BOY all of the answers to this are Sappy.......... it’d take a lot to get him to openly admit it (yes) but t3 is definitely a.. welcomed presence and has helped him out a lot mentally and whatnot........ also simon is forever his beautiful lovely son and best pal whomst he is exceedingly protective of even though the simon in these boys’ canon belongs 2 t3.................... also, begrudgingly, he sort of enjoys the DDR-X’s presence. sort of. even though it’s a GIR-esque atrocity

☁ - If they’re caught out in the rain how do they react? im nnnot sure abt original arkk but i think at this point t4 wouldn’t wanna go inside honestly... he’d just. stand out there in it. he really misses Weather (the snowblind section of chaos isles doesn’t count)... i can see him finding rain very reassuring and soothing

♪ - Are they musically inclined? absolutely fuckin not

♫ - What kind of music do they enjoy? dubstep.. nightcore.. u kno... the works..

✓ - How do they react to praise? he’s absolutely fuckin thirsty for that sweet sweet praise and acknowledgement and gratification........................ he feels he Deserves it and acts that way all pompously at least outwardly but i think a bit more on the inside he gets a bit starry-eyed and just a tad.. like... ‘anime girl pushing her pinkies together’ esque............... he’s not gonna Admit That tho

✕ - How do they handle rejection? NOT WELL........... it definitely can depend on what the individual situation is but when it comes to stuff like “no, you can’t use inquest resources for that” “arkk no don’t rip a hole in the mists” “no you cant eat the last can of pringles” “hey no you shouldn’t attach that kind of laser to that kind of battery--” he has a very hard time taking no for an answer and is probably gonna get pissed and do what he wants to anyway and very aggressively do so in your face orrr slink off and do it behind ur back depending.. arkk/t4 does what arkk/t4 wants and thats the end of that

☺ - Do they prefer sour or sweet treats? i think he’s pretty blissfully neutral and will eat absolutely any junk food/candy you shove at him...... i can see him preferring slightly more sour stuff sometimes but that doesn’t mean he won’t stuff his face with chocolate either

❄ - Favorite season and why? he just wants Any Season back........... tho im gonna say spring and autumn because that’s when u can get weather where u can wear a tank top outside without being too uncomfy in a binder and also Con Season u kno?????????????

☮ - Do they have an idol or someone they look up to? his mom is the obvious answer here!! but also.. he is indeed, unfortunately, a bit of a Scarlet Fanboy.. despite her wrecking shit and all that he can’t help but find her inventions super fascinating

❤ - Do they have a love interest? HMM

✖ - Who is someone they just cannot stand? gOD him and t3 sort of go at it constantly don’t they... but at the end of the day they’re Totally BFFs so i guess that doesn’t count huh...................................... i think rather than specific people he’s still always gonna be salty at Fractal Explorers Tourists.... regardless of them being hired by dessa or w/e... t4 in particular now too.. now that he’s aware that he’s actually a mists being/echo, on top of bein the son of the woman who literally created the fractals, he views the fractals and by extension the mists as sort of his Birthright almost... he really despises the tourists storming in and resetting other echoes’ loops and not allowing them to Live Out Their Lives and just.. causing endless pain over and over especially considering that fractal portal was originally established by the consortium who he undoubtedly loathes, presuming he’s aware of that............

♔ - Do they value loyalty? i think this is kinda hard to answer bc like.. who doesn’t??? i think arkk in general is a sort of lone wolf type who actually doesn’t generally like other people meddling in his work much and doesn’t quite enjoy having to rely on other people/have ppl be loyal 2 him, judging by his remarks at the brazen gladiator and about his.. probably inquest??? krewe in his journal entries and then ofc all the snark at the party during nightmare frac (though he had a lot of personal salt material involving batteries that motivated that).. i think he’s less of a “if ur loyal to me we’ll be Buddies and get things done together >:)” type and more of a “well i need you unfortunately so do what i say and do it well and we won’t have a problem and i guess i’ll owe you one, but stay out of my way after that” type..... he doesn’t enjoy involving other people in his plans and would rather do things himself especially to ensure it doesn’t get Mucked Up by someone else’s foolishness...... so i guess to that extent no he actually doesn’t ppparticularly value loyalty and won’t treat you special for adhering to his plans; for him adhering to his plans and then getting tf out is just the baseline performance you should be giving him

HOWEVER t4 is a bit of a special case because he does have t3 and despite all their bickering he values t3s cooperation a lot and is really optimistic about their partnership. i mean cmon.. TWO arkks! twice the brilliance! the ability to always be on the same page and not have to deal with the tragic shortsightedness and insurmountable ineptitude of not-arkk underlings! loyalty isn’t still quite a factor but he appreciates that they’re both on the same page on everything

♕ - Do they trust easily? hhghhrrhg no probably not...... he’s probably a bit bitter towards other people in general and closes himself off easily and doesn’t want them involved in his business

#long post #text heavy #ask meme #ask memes #t4 #t4 arkk #t3 and t4 arkk #I CANT REMEMBER WHAT HIS TAG WAS #here u go sasha thank u for the questions mwah this was fun #i love this disaster man

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lizzyfish225 · 7 years

Text

Gaster, please take care of yourself...

WARNING! this is a tickle fic. If you don't like it, don't read it. Contains cursing It does include Gaster (Dadster, not handplates) and Asgore from undertale, BUT IT IS NOT A SHIP! IT IS ALL COMPLETELY PLATONIC AND FRIENDLY FRIEND BUISSNESS!! So fuck you guys! Yeah! (I'm kidding please love me) 😂😂😂 There is a bunch of stuff leading upto the did but it's worth it I swear! Okay. I'll shut up now. Ly fam! Go read!

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It had been a long day. Gaster had been in the lab for nearly 24 hours finishing up a project and doing some work on the core. He did end up getting enough sleep to keep going with his head intact... Plus some coffee.... But it still wasn't enough. When he needed to speak to someone, he was able to keep the conversation going as per usual, but when he was alone..... He had almost fallen asleep in the middle of a couple experiments. So, as he was walking towards a set of stairs to get to another section of his lab -in which the coffee that was keeping him awake resided- he of course had to trip over his own feet and not catch himself before landing on the stairs at an odd angle... With a sickening crack.

"GAH! AAAHHRRGG!! FUCK!" Gaster yelped as he hit the cement steps. He had landed on his left side, hitting his upper arm at an odd angle on one of the steps. This particular spot was throbbing and screaming at him. This is no doubt what had caused the loud crack that echoed through the lab he was sitting in on his own.

Gaster rolled onto his back -still on the stairs- and looked at his arm. He could bleed thanks to the magic that kept him alive, and there was a large red patch seeping through his lab coat. This was worrying. It took alot to make a skeleton bleed.he managed to get up and over to a table before he collapsed onto a chair. He no longer needed anything to keep him awake. The pain was doing just fine. He slowly worked his lab coat off -not avoiding any pain like he had hoped- and rolled up his sleeve.

"Ah...." Gaster hissed and winced at the sight of his arm. "That would sertianly explain the bleeding..." He groaned as he managed to look at his arm. His upper arm was graced by a pretty nasty fracture that was leaking the red fluid that had concerned him more than the pain. As the adrenaline began to fade away, the arm hurt worse. It was slightly bent and would need to be reset, and for as smart as Gaster was, he was also stubborn. It was far from him to go for help. He would have to fix it himself. He took a deep breath and held part of his arm with his right hand, taking hold about an inch below the fracture and stiffening up his shoulder before close of his eyes and sharply cracking the arm back into place. Screaming and allowing a couple tears to slip out of his eyes despite himself. At least it was in place. He wrapped the fracture in a large quantity of bandages, sucureing them and sighing. It was far from ideal, but it would do. He flinched as his cell phone rang. The contact made his eyes widen.

"Y-your Magesty! H-hello... Is there... Is there something you need?" Gaster asked, stuttering from the continuing pain in his arm.

"~Gaster! My friend! Hello. Yes I... Are you alright? You rarely stutter...~" Asgore voice rang through the phone.

"Oh! Oh no, I-Im alright. J-just tired. You needed something, Sire?"

"~Yes... I was just reminding you about Tea in an hour. You've been late quite often lately.~" Asgore sighed.

"My apologies, Sire. I have been letting myself get a little bit too involved in my work. I will do my best to be on time today."

"~Its quite alright Gaster. I worry for you is all.~"

"Y-you really have no reason to worry about me, your Majesty. Surely you have enough to worry about without adding me to the list. I will be on time today, I promise. I-I really must be going now though. There is something I must attend to."

"~Alright Gaster. I'll let you go. I will see you in an hour~"

"Absolutely, Sire. Goodbye." Gaster finished as he hung up. Even better. He would not allow for the king to know he was wounded. He worried enough as it is.

Shoving some pain medicine into his face, Gaster walked over to his overnight room that he had incase he had to hole himself up for a few days and changed his shirt and lab coat, grunting as he did so. He prayed he could keep a dignified status whilst with the king.

An hour later, Gaster had walked into the throne room and kneeled whilst he announced his presence. His left arm remained as still as possible. Asgore gave his useualy short speech about 'Gaster being a friend and having no need to be so formal around him', but it never sticks anyway. Gaster would always treat the Goat Monster infront of him the same. He was the king for god sakes! They sat and talked as usual, but Asgore continually gave the doctor these odd looks. He was fed up.

"Your Majesty, might I ask why you keep giving me those odd looks?" Gaster asked, placing his cup down on the small China plate that was made for it.

"Are you sure your alright? You haven't moved your arm at all since you came in and you seem very tence. Oh dear, your shaking aswell. Gaster, my friend, are you hurt?" Asgore asked, taking on a worried expression. Gaster's eyes widened and he looked at his hand. Oh for the love of... He was shaking!

"I.... U-um. No. I'm alright... Really! You have no reason to worry about me, Sire." Gaster gulped. Dammit. Busted before he could slink off.

"Really?" Asgore asked in a tone that plainly pointed out his disbelief.

"...Y-yes?"

"Not even you believed that one." Asgore sighed standing and starting over to his friend. Gaster gulped and stood up.

"I- I really should be going... Thank-you for the tea, it was-" Gaster started, getting cut of my his Majesty's hand gently pressing againsed his chest, pulling back and revealing a soul. The King placed his hand underneath it and checked his friends HP. The doctor had lost Heath.

"Gaster! Your wounded! My friend, I ask that you tell me these things so I can help." Asgore exclaimed worriedly as Gaster shoved his soul back in place.

"It's nothing, Sire. Now, I really should be going if you don't mi-" Gaster was cut off from slinking away as Asgore grabbed his good arm right by his ribs with his large hand and held him in place.

"No. Doctor Gaster. Where are you wounded?" Asgore asked firmly and worriedly cutting Gaster off as he was about to speak. "And don't you dare say that it's nothing. Allow me to help you even just this once!" He spoke angrily.

"Sire-"

"Gaster..."

"I- ugh..." Gaster sighed before mumbling in reply. "My upper left arm. It's really not that bad. No need to worry over it."

"Of Corse it's something to worry over! You are wounded! Now, let me see. Hold still." Asgore said in a more calm and kind tone, gently reaching for Gaster's arm. Gaster fenced up, but still ended up flinching in spite of himself. Asgore simply rolled up his friend's thin sleeves until he saw he brown bandages wrapping the wound. Gaster winced as the king unsound the bandages until he saw the bloody and cracked bone underneath.

"Gaster!" Asgore gasped, "Why would you hide this from me!? Hold still!" He asked as he gently grabbed the wound and allowed his hand to glow green with healing magic.

"Wait! Sire! You don't... Have... To......." Gaster yelped trailing off as he magic put him into a dazed state. It only took two muinets for the arm to be healed and only minorly sore, but it felt like hours wile Gaster was in that trance-like state. When he came to his senses however.... "Your Majesty. You really didn't have to-" Gaster began, shaking his head to clear it and being cut off.

"Yes I did. You are my friend, Gaster. And I worry. Why did you hide that?" Asgore asked softly, placing his handsome on his friends shoulders. Gaster's sleeves fell back in place as his arm was allowed to drop. He looked away from the king.

"I hid it because you worry. You are already bombarded with enought to worry about without adding my burden to the pile. Until we are out of this retched mountain, my needs come last." Gaster stated firmly. The king was shocked. With a curt face, the taller and stronger out of the two lifted his friend up from under the arms to look at him eye level. Gaster's eyes widened as he grabbed onto the king's wrists, blushing slightly.

"Gaster. You. Are not. A burden. You are my friend. Your needs should not come last! If not under the authority of your king or the worry of a coligue, then please, by the plead of a friend, take better care of yourself! I'm not asking you to take a weekly spa day! I'm simply requesting you to look out for your health, safety, and emotional state. Is that really so much to ask?" Asgore stated in a tone that almost made Gaster give right then and there, but -as previously mentioned- he was stubborn.

"I am truely sorry, Sire, but my opinion and state of mind remains unchanged." Gaster stated as he looked away from the king. Asgore frowned. How could he cheer him up and get his friend to take better care of himself...? Asgore thought for a moment before he had a 'lightbulb' moment. He smirked playfully.

"Now Gaster..." Asgore began in a playful and mischievous tone that defiantly caught Gaster by supprize, considering the scientist looked the king in the eye with a chonfused look on his face. "I am going to give you one chance to swear you'll take better care of yourself..." Asgore finished. Okay, that smirk was worrying.

"Sire... I have no idea what your planning... But that smirk tells me it's nothing good. You still will not change my mind, however." Gaster gulped. His eyes flashed purple for a split second, just long enough for Asgore to see it before the skeleton regained his self control. He was nervous. Asgore grinned.

"Ooh... Bad choice." He chuckled before he began to lightly scratch the scientists ribs with the hands hat were already placed there. Gaster jumped, his arms coming down to press againsed his body instantaneously.

"Y-your Majehesty! Wahat are y-you do-ing!? Sihire!" Gaster yelped, stuttering in an attempt not to laugh.

"I think you know exactly what I'm doing, Gaster, and by the looks of things, it's working!" Asgore chuckled. Gaster began squirming more and kicking his legs a little, trying to get away. He had never been more confused in his life. He king. Asgore. He was... Tickling.... The Royal scientist? Just the mere thought made it harder to keep his giggles in.

"S-Sihihire! Thihis is v-very chihildish! Plehehease relehease mehe!" Gaster giggled. Actually giggled! This was increasingly embarassing for poor Gaster.

"I don't think so, my friend." Asgore chuckled lightheartedly. The king moved his friend to his chest, facing away from him, and sat down cross legged. Gaster was trapped in the king's lap! He didn't even truely understand what was happening. All he knew was that he was very red faced and that he jumped again as the king attacked his sides.

"Gah! Nohohohoho! Sihihihihihihire! Stohohohohohohop ihihit! Plehehehehase! Nahahahahohohohoho!" And there it was. Gaster had broken. He was smiling wide and bright, laughing his bony ass off in he king's lap. Gaster would have retaliated if it was anyone else. He has two sons. Its not like he's never done something like this before. But this was the king! He couldn't just retaliate to the king, let alone through all that armor! So the scientist sat and laughed, squirming and trying to get away. This was very embarassing. He couldn't get away! He tried reaching out to see if that table was still in reach. It was not. He pinned his arms down to his sides to try and shove the hands away, not such luck. He kicked out, only ending in pushing further into the king's chest and sliding down further into his lap.

"My my Gaster! You squirm quite a bit don't you?" Asgore chuckled, allowing Gaster to slip to the side a little, ending with the poor victim lying across his lab in his back. Asgore stuck his hands under the skeleton's arms and began digging his fingers in. Gaster squeaked and started to laugh even harder, arching his back and squirming away more.

"SIHIHIHIHIHIHIRE!! Nahahahahahahahahohohoho! Plehehehehehehehehehehehease! Enohohohogh!!!! Gahahahahahaha!" Gaster continued to laugh loudly, squirming and kicking away. He managed to get most of the wasy away, but the king just grabbed his ankle, removing the scientists dress shoe and attacking his feet.

"NOHOHO! NOHOHOHOHAHAHAHahahahahahahaha!!! Cohohohohohome ohohohohohon! Plehehehehehehehehehehehease!" Gaster cried, his laughter getting louder.

"You know, this side of you is much more fun. You hardly ever laugh or let loose! This is good for you! Asgore smiled. Gaster was banging his fist on the floor and trying to claw away on his belly, but the king was too strong. No madder how much Gaster kicked or squirmed, Asgore would not let go. We'll, until he stopped to pull Gaster into his lap again and go at his hips. That was much worse. He actually squealed. He was layed on his back again, so he did his best to push the king's hands away.

SIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIRE! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE! IHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAHANT!!! GAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" Gaster squealed, laughing louder than he would have liked. The king would have stopped then and there, but the scientists laughter was still more bright than desperate. So he continued, teasing a little to.

"you do realize your alowed to use my name right? Asgore. You know how to say it right? My god you laugh loudly!" Asgore chuckled kindly, smirking before pushing the scientists clothing and arms out of the way of his belly and sipping his head down. By the time Gaster realized what was about to happen it was too late. I loud raspberry was blown on his spine, causing him to shriek and laugh boistorously.

"NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOH MYHYHYHY GOHOHOHOD!!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!!!!! GAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" Gaster shrieked, pushing on the king's head and trying to suck um into a ball the protect himself. Neither strategy was working. It wasn't until Asgore accedently brushed Gaster's elbow and got a snort that he paused. Gaster was panting and taking in more air than seemed reasonable.

"Gaster? Did you just snort when I touched your elbow?" Asgore smirked, raising an eyebrow. Gaster froze. He sat still for half a moment before Asgore spoke. "Is your funny bone ticklish?" Asgore cuckled questioningly. Gaster jumped into action, trying to get away with increased vigor. Asgore just laughed and pinned one of his arms down, experimentally scratching his friends funny bone. He flinched, snorted, and started to giggle from that small touch. Oh. This was gonna be good! Asgore went all out, and Gaster flipped. He shrieked and started trying desperately to get away. He was begging and laughing and makeing noises in his own little skeleton language. It was hilarious. This was most definitely his worst spot. Gaster had tears of mirth running down his face and he was laughing so hard that you could probably hear him in Snowden.

"Have you had enough Gaster? Will you start taking better care of yourself finnaly?" Asgore asked. Gaster couldn't even speak, so he just shook his head. Man! He was stuborn! Asgore did have one last thing up his sleeve though. He leaned his head down and blew on his friends funny bone in warning and to tease. Gaster's eyes snapped open.

"NO! WAIT! DONT- NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE! IHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAHANT!!!" Gaster shrieked as Asgore blew raspberry after raspberry on his funny bone, causing him to fall into silent laughter. Asgore smirked.

"how about now?" He asked between raspberrys. Gaster nodded frantically. It just had to stop. Asgore laughed and stopped with one last scratch at his friends elbow before sitting up with Gaster panting in his lap, exhausted.

"Please..... Never..... Do that...... Again......" Gaster panted. Asgore laughed.

"If I find your not taking care of yourself or your in a bad moon, I will not hesitate my friend." Asgore laughed. Despite the grin on his face, Gaster groaned and threw his arm over his eyes. Asgore laughed. "Alright, up you get, my friend." Asgore smiled helping his friend to his feet. Gaster replaced his shoe and continued speaking with the king for some time. This day was certainly one for the history books.

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