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tan1shere · 2 months

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Ellie Williams x female reader !

A/n: Ellie Williams x sick stubborn reader !! Thought this would be cute because sometimes I don't like to admit when I'm getting sick as I hate it so much. Especially when something exciting is coming up- but anyways I won't blab any longer, enjoy the story beautiful people <3

Summary: you were slowly developing a cold but you were incredibly stubborn and kept saying you were fine, but the freezing winter was only making it worse, Ellie had to make you stay home so it would get better.

Warnings: fear of puking (I sadly suffer from it- and yes I can't remember what the name is 😃.) Just ellie being a sweetheart:( fluffyness !!

Masterlist

It was a cold winters day in Jackson. Snow drizzling every so often. You and Ellie were currently out on patrol at some random building. Night was beginning to come, and you and her were on your way back. "It's so cold out." You mention, hugging your jacket close to you. Ellie looks at you. "Babe, you should wear more layers." She speaks going to wrap an arm around your shoulder. You sink into her touch keeping more warm. "Im fineee." She lets out a hum. "I heard you coughing back there." You go to push her gently away from you. "I had a tickle in my throat big deal." You let out a small laugh, but she gets serious. "Well it is getting cold out I'd hate for you to get si-" "I'm fine Ellie I promise." That didn't seem too believable. As you approached the gates to the small town you lived in, you and Ellie split ways eventually. Going to your little home and flopping on your bed, getting under the covers wanting to sleep as you were exhausted from your long day.

The next day rolled around but you were glued to your bed, you knew you had to get up. Letting out a groan, opening one eye ever so slightly. You look out your window gazing at the falling snow. "So tired." You figured it was from your big day yesterday, but you were definitely wrong. Sitting up almost immediately as you begin to have a coughing fit. Just like you began to have yesterday. Weird. Once it slowly died down you look around, feeling a tad faint. When all of a sudden there was a knock at your door. "Baby, you up? It's almost 9, you've slept for awhile." You shake your head out of your small daydream and get up, going over to your door and opening it. You look at Ellie but she widens her eyes. "What?" You were confused by it. "You look incredibly pale." She had worry in her tone, coming inside and shutting the door. "I'm probably just cold Elli-" That was cut short when you felt a soft and cold hand on your forehead. "Uh uh you're burning up." This made you even more confused. I mean, you did feel a bit off. But you had so much to do today, you couldn't take a break or anything.

After all it was probably nothing... right? "Ok, well I'll be ready in a second." Which earns a shake of her head. "Ellie-" "you're so stuck in your ways huh? You're clearly sick." You roll your eyes. "I am not sick, I swear." Once again this woman believes nothing that's coming out of your mouth. "You're full of shit you know that." You attempt to ignore her and head outside anyways, but she instantly blocks the door. "Let me out." "Nope." You huff. "I told you I'm not-" you couldn't even finish that argument because you start coughing like a crazy person. "You were saying?" Letting out a long groan you get back on your bed. You just wanted to go out, you loved doing your little jobs, and the snow. It bummed you out when you were sick. But you were really glad that Ellie was the type to not take no for an answer. Because after a few minutes had passed you were getting worse.

You only wanted to get some water for that pesky scratch in your throat, while Ellie was reading something on your nightstand, laying in your bed. Her attention turns to you as she notices you gripping the sink in the small kitchen you had. "Baby?" You don't reply trying to calm your aching skull. "Hey, everything alright?" She asks again, more concerned. "I just got really dizzy.." You sigh out, trying to stand properly. Ellie gets up going over to you. "Why don't you go lay down and rest, I'll get you these things ok?" You want to nod but knowing your head is pounding you settle for an 'mhmmm' She watches as you take your drink going to walk close behind you, making sure you don't get too light headed. This is when Ellie goes full protective girlfriend mode. She makes you lay down under the covers, wanting you to have as much comfort as possible. "Are you too warm or cold?" You ponder her question. "I'm quite cold." She begins to bundle you up in the blankets, making sure you're warm enough but not to the point of overheating.

Next she will dampen a cold cloth to put on your burning forehead, in hopes it'll ease your growing temperature. "Have you got a thermometer anywhere." You didn't find it as necessary but she still wouldn't take no for an answer. "Probably in the first aid kit in the bathroom." You'd respond. She goes to grab it, coming back over to you. "Mouth open, tongue up." You give her a look. "Ellie come on-" "I need to see exactly what you're at." She'd reply. "You're ridiculous." But you do as she said, feeling the cool glass hit your tongue, keeping it there for however long it needed to be. She takes it out looking at it. "Maybe we should get Maria or Joel- this is concerning." You put a hand on hers. "Baby, I promise you this is all ok, I'll be fine." But you keep proving your points wrong when suddenly you sneeze randomly. She gives you a 'I'm literally right' sort of look. Resulting in you just shaking your head, leaning back against your bed.

You got to admit tho, you wanted to stay strong for Ellie, but you were quite scared. Yes you hated being sick, colds, stuffyness. But one thing you dreaded the most was puking. As the day went on you were convinced it was just a runny nosed cold. When you felt a hurling ache in your lower stomach. Which soon started progressing higher, making that watery feeling arise. You swallow getting really worried. You avert your eyes to Ellie who was folding some of your clothes. She had been doing little things around your home all day to help you out. You try so incredibly hard not to let this feeling out, but your anxiety increases as the feeling does too. "E-ellie." You try to get out worried if you open your mouth in the slightest something might erupt. Your hand makes its way underneath your breasts. Rubbing circles, hoping the horrid feeling will just fuck off. "Yeah my girl?" She softly replies. But you don't think you can answer. You need to get the message across but you're so scared.

She whips her head around to look at you, seeing your skin getting even more pale and noticing your actions. Her eyes widen as she soon realizes. Ellie knew your fear, ever since the first time you puked infront of her she hated the gut wrenching cry of pain you let out once you had, your tears hurting everything inside of her. Stopping what she was doing she makes her way over to you, sitting on the bed. "Hey, look at me baby." Her tone was still as soft as anything. "I'm scared." You blurt out. "I know, I know. But maybe you need to. Get out all of those icky bugs inside you." You were instant to shaking your head. "You don't need to be scared I'm right here. I promise." She speaks, holding your hand. You let go of a shaky breath, taking in her gentle words. "Let me get the bowl ok?" She gets up going to do just that, bringing it over to you. It took a few seconds for you to just give into the thing you were dreading, holding it back. Once you do she was quick to putting your hair back and out of your face.

Putting it in a small bun, knowing this wasn't the last time you'd be puking that day. Not long after she hears your soft cries, and that gut wrenching sound of absolute pain. "Ellie." You make a disgusted face, tasting the horribleness. "I know my baby, I know." She gives you a small frown, wanting to take all this pain away from you. "Everything hurts." She rubs a soothing hand on your head moving to set the bowl down and clean it out soon. "I'm sorry Els." But she shakes her head. "You can't help being sick angel, just hurts to hear your cries and pains." You nod. "I hate it." "Me too darling. Being sick is the worst." There was a small silence. "Want me to lay with you precious girl?" Your heart melted at how caring this woman was. "You've done so much for me today- I really don't want to get you sick-" But she puts a finger on your mouth shhing you. "Don't be silly babe, I'd rather get sick then leave you here all by yourself. That's horrible to even think about." She goes to get into bed with you. Immediately you snuggle close to her. "Thank you." She smiles. "No need to thank me love, I'm always here for you." You let a smile spread across your face feeling exhausted. "Why don't you have a little nap and then we can try to get you to drink something when you wake up." And you couldn't agree more to that nap. Sleeping almost instantly.

#elliewilliams #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader

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nametakensff · 21 days

Note

Ummmmmm… ⏰ for Steve??

Thank you so much for the 'Inopportune' prompt, anon! 🥰 Ended up writing 6.2k of S/teve suffering a torturous stuck sneeze that decided to make an appearance at the worst time imaginable 😇

S/teve has been trying to convince the stubborn tickle in his nose to form into a sneeze for hours. It just so happens that he will get his wish, but only when a stunning girl shows up to his work and takes an unprecedented amount of interest in his tickly nose

~~~~~

Content:

M sneezes, M/F (OC made up solely for the purpose of this fic lol), Stuck sneezes, buildups, false starts, manual inducing, tissues, platonic S/tobin, S/teve has a latent sneeze fetish, F OC has a sneeze fetish, sneezing from perfume, scent sensitivity, mentions of photic sneezing, mentions of cold sneezing, sneezing on someone, spray, a little bit of mess but nothing too graphic, sneezing in hands, nose rubbing, embarrassment/humiliation, mentions of masturbation and sex but only a little, S/teve has huge sneezes that he absolutely cannot control

Not explicitly NSFW but pretty close lol. Extremely fetishy

Minors DNI!

Steve had needed to sneeze all. Fucking. Day. It had started the moment he’d rolled out of bed – a distant tickle, not subtle enough to ignore but certainly not sharp enough to give him any kind of release. It was cloying and insistent, and no manner of nose rubbing, sniffling or snorting was doing anything to appease it. He’d sniffled repeatedly as he got dressed and brushed his teeth, hoping to fan the flames and stoke it into fruition. He’d rubbed the tip of his nose back and forth in the way that sometimes helped tip him over the edge of a sneeze just shy of completion. But no. Nothing. All he earned for his efforts was a couple of irritated tears rolling down his cheeks and an unpleasant burning sensation in his nostrils, as if the tickle was actively protesting the provocation.

He’d thought he would sneeze for sure when he’d styled his hair and inevitably inhaled his daily lungful of Farrah Fawcett hairspray fumes. It always tasted disgusting and lingered in his mouth and nose, but he was used to it. Today, the first whiff of the stuff seemed to skyrocket the dormant tickle into overdrive. His chest had jumped violently and the chemical scent seemed to drag the tickle forward through his sinuses; his nostrils began to flare.

“Hh…! HH! Hh-HAH!! HADHTT-!!”

But at the very last moment, when he’d been hanging right on the precipice of release, the sensation receded and the air in his lungs was let go with a startled, disappointed exhalation.

“God fucking dammit.” He’d muttered after several more moments of pleading with his body, eyelashes fluttering as he sniffled and panted, hoping that the manual inhalations would trigger an automatic onslaught of desperate gasps. Nope.

This tickle was definitely on his shitlist. It reared its ugly head again the second he put his car into drive. He’d white-knuckled the steering wheel, tipping his head back and taking in breath after lusty breath. God, but he needed to sneeze so badly.

Much the same as before, the tickle vanished right at the peak of his hitching, leaving him to deflate and scrub desperately at his tingling nostrils. This was fucking insane. A couple of minutes just sitting there and breathing experimentally made it clear that the mounting sensation was quite finished with him for the moment. It was still there, though, retreating back into the deepest recesses of his sinuses with a low grade buzz that left his eyes (and nose) perpetually damp. He swore and pulled out of the driveway, on his way to pick up Robin for their lengthy Saturday shift.

It was as he parked and honked the horn outside her house that the tickle made its unwelcome return. He inhaled deeply through his nostrils, alternating between sniffling and taking breaths through his mouth when that seemed to be stirring the tickle towards completion. He was far too invested in encouraging the sneeze along to care what he looked like when Robin sat down in the passenger seat, but he was sure the face he was making was ridiculous. He sat there and panted like a fucking dog, pressing his tongue against the bottom row of his teeth. Robin was silent next to him, but he could feel her eyes roving over his face as he hitched, and hitched, and hitched…

At last he bristled, one final, stuttering gasp expanding his chest to capacity and yes, he was going to sneeze, he was going to-!

“HAHHHDTTt’-!!”

He held that breath for one second, two seconds, but all at once it was withdrawing, pulling him back from that tantalising edge, bereft of release for the third time that day.

“Nooo, fuck my life!” He groaned, punching the steering wheel and pushing his nose firmly against one upraised palm, violently jostling it back and forth until an audibly damp squishing noise graced the air.

“Don’t tell me you forgot how to sneeze, Dingus?” Robin was giggling next to him, delighted at the sight of his bleary-eyed frustration.

“Haha, hilarious, Robin, thank you. No, it just won’t fucking come out. Dammit.”

He sniffled wetly, sawing a finger back and forth under his nostrils. A quick glance at himself in the front mirror made him grimace – the skin round his nose was looking increasingly irritated, pinkening in response to the repeated manhandling. All this and not even a single sneeze for his efforts.

Robin pressed a packet of tissues into his hand, and he offered a small thanks before blowing his nose. He ignored Robin’s comment about him signing up for a position in the brass section of band sans instrument and pulled away from her house.

“Have you even sneezed once?” She asked as he pocketed the tissues one-handed.

“Nope. Not one fucking sneeze.” He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut hard, for just a moment. The tickle simmered in response, as if in mockery.

“Doesn’t the sun make you sneeze?”

“Usually, first thing in the morning – but no, it should have happened by now. I have no idea what’s going on.”

“Caught a cold?”

He shook his head. He felt totally fine – the only thing wrong was the tickle, rolling through his sinuses in little waves. He blinked, and another set of tears dribbled slowly down his cheeks.

“Allergies?”

“Don’t have any. As far as I know? And nothing’s changed. I just woke up this way. Fuck, it burns, man!”

He reached up and bullied his nose back and forth with a balled-up fist this time, hoping the more aggressive approach would force the tickle to crest. All it did was hurt, and cause him to miss their turn.

By the time they’d pulled into the parking lot at Family Video, he had suffered two more agonising false starts, preceded by lengthy, dramatic buildups that made it a bitch to keep driving, to say the least. He slammed the car door behind him much harder than he would ever allow anyone else to do and strode angrily towards the building, but only made it a few steps before the tickle began to tease him all over again.

He peered up at the sun, knowing it would be useless but pleading with his body all the same. He gasped as the tickle ground against his sinuses, twisting his face into an expression of utter desperation. He’d never wanted to sneeze so badly before, never known his body to both hurtle towards and abjectly prevent the release of it in this cruel back and forth of “will he, won’t he”.

Well, he wouldn’t. Not this time, just like all the other times prior. His breath stuttered, a huge, definitive gasp, but even as it was sucked into his lungs he knew it wasn’t meant to be. It left him in an equally dramatic exhalation, immediately followed by an aggravated “Fuck!!”

Robin was next to him, patting his arm and steering him inside the building. He let her, waiting patiently whilst she unlocked the door and urged him through it.

“You feeling okay, buddy?” She asked, looking amused but genuinely concerned. He sighed and waved her off.

“Yeah, Robs, I’m fine. Kind of losing my mind a little but what else is new, you know?”

He meant to flash a reassuring smile her way, but the lingering tickle twisted it into a partial grimace. She snorted a goofy little laugh in response, and it was enough to make him laugh as well, though that also came out sounding more like a choking cough.

“I’ll cover phones and front desk today, okay, stud?”

“Thank you.”

~~~~~~

This shift was taking forever. Normally the passage of time was assuaged by dealing with customers and joking with Robin, but he was able to do neither, constantly assaulted with the prickling burn of the tickle. It had been hours since he woke up and he still hadn’t managed to sneeze. The false starts were, quite frankly, embarrassing beyond belief. He couldn’t help the way his expression crumpled, the gasps he sucked in, the way his entire body was immobilised by the building desire to sneeze. The best he could do was make sure he had his back turned on any potential spectators. A little girl had pointed and laughed at him, yanking at her mother’s skirt and announcing gleefully “Look, mommy! Funny faces!” That had sure fucking sucked. It totally didn’t make him want the floor to open up and swallow him at all.

It had taken one particularly aggressive false start – one he had been convinced was the real deal, so forceful that his body had been tossed forward with the half-sneeze – to piss him off entirely. He blushed right to the roots of his hair at the almost echoing silence after a monstrously loud “HUUUHHDTT’-!” had torn its way out of his throat, the sneeze cruelly fizzling into nothingness only after he had thoroughly embarrassed himself. Luckily, there had only been an older couple on the other side of the store at that particular moment – their conversation had vanished along with his sneeze, and he made a point of ignoring their curious gazes as he skulked into the back.

This was getting ridiculous. It had been ridiculous for hours, but he wasn’t sure how much more of the abject humiliation and fruitless buildups he could take. His nostrils flared involuntarily, rhythmically twitching like a bunny rabbit as the promise of a sneeze continued to tickle and tease the sensitive walls of his sinuses. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, leaning against the small counter where Keith would fix himself an endless stream of PB&J sandwiches. Steve noticed that he hadn’t even bothered to put the loaf away from his shift the night prior, and half was already gone. Hungry work, he guessed.

Absentmindedly regarding the bread, his hands reached out to secure the small metal wire that Keith had left lazily untwisted. He didn’t like Keith, but he wasn’t enough of an asshole to let the man’s bread go stale out of spite. It was in that moment, as his fingertips brushed over the tie in question, that an idea lit up his brain.

Looking over his shoulder in case Robin made an appearance, he undid the tie entirely and pocketed it. He didn’t know why the thought of what he was about to do felt so salacious, but his heart was beating in his chest all the same. He made his way into the employee bathroom, locked the door behind him, and with sweating palms, extracted the tie and unfurled it into its full extension.

He looked at that little wire for a moment. Why oh why was he feeling so fucking nervous? It was a simple enough idea – stick the thing up his nose and wiggle it around until he made himself sneeze, replace the wire, then back to work. He wanted to sneeze so badly he could hardly focus on anything else, and yet – this felt…naughty. Dangerous. Like he was pulling his cock out at work and going to town. Which was entirely ridiculous, because it was just sneezing. Maybe the suggestive notion of inserting a phallic object into a hole? He huffed out a disbelieving giggle at that.

“Fucking stupid.” He mumbled, bringing the wire up to his nose and hesitating for just a moment.

Steve started out by teasing the flaring rim of one nostril, getting used to the sensation. It was almost immediately too much to bear, and he yanked his head back, eyes watering. It seemed that the best way to do this was to get it over with, no dragging things out. He paused for a second longer, almost giddy with anticipation, before slipping the wire back into his nose and pushing up until he was met with resistance – the very back of his nostril.

“Hh’HAHH!!”

His chest jumped with a sudden inhale – the inside of his nose was so, so irritated. The tiniest little twitch of the wire elicited an even bigger, lustier gasp of air.

“HUHHHH!!”

God. His heart was fucking pounding, eyes streaming tears as the wire bullied the sensitive walls, driving him mad in response. He’d never known a tickle like this before – he was entirely at its mercy, barely able to continue stoking it into completion with the subtle motions of his hand. He reached out, bracing himself on the wall with one trembling hand. It was coming, at last – he was finally, finally going to sneeze. His eyebrows lifted up, nostrils flaring to capacity, mouth dropping open as he took in one last humongous gasp of air, and –

“Steve?”

He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden voice and gentle rapping on the bathroom door, dropping the wire as he shuddered in place. His heart had already going haywire in his chest, but now he swore his soul had almost left his body. The absolute shock, the fear – it was enough to terrify not only him, but the budding sneeze as well. He exhaled shakily, totally sneeze-less, feeling so frustrated he could cry.

“Yeah, I’m in here!” He grumbled, paranoid and hoping his voice didn’t somehow reveal to Robin the embarrassing nature of what he’d just been doing. He ignored the thought that it felt like the time his mom walked in on him jacking off in middle school.

“Okay, sorry!” She sounded concerned, and Steve sighed, running a hand over his face, willing himself to calm down. He sniffled, a distinctly liquid sound – the tickle continued its rampage, ever present but never enough to give him the relief he needed.

“You okay?” He offered back when he sensed her lingering. She would have heard that ridiculous false start before, watched him skulk into the back and not come back out.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just – checking in.”

“I’m fine, Robin. Promise.” He lied before blowing his nose as violently as he could, hoping in vain it would tickle enough to make him sneeze. It did not.

“Well, good. Listen, I was gonna go on lunch but I totally forgot to pack something – I’m gonna go grab a sandwich – I can get you one, too – but I just need you to cover for 15 teensy little minutes?”

He sighed.

“Yeah, it’s all good. Just go, I’ll be out in a second.”

He turned on the tap, hoping she would take the hint and leave.

“20 minutes tops!!” He heard her voice receding.

“Grab me a meatball sub!” He shouted after her. Maybe his irritability would deplete once he had the weight of a huge, greasy sandwich weighing him down and making him sleepy. At this point, he would take any kind of distraction.

He sighed again, sniffling once more and regretting it as the burning tickle brought fresh tears to his eyes, and made his way out to the front of the store.

~~~~~~

It would be just his fucking luck that within 4 minutes of Robin’s departure, one of the cutest girls he had ever seen strolled through the door and, upon witnessing Steve behind the front desk, made a beeline towards him. He willed the tickle to back the fuck off, at least enough so that he wasn’t wearing a permanent grimace of frustration.

Man, but this girl was smoking hot – he didn’t recall seeing her around, but then again, life was no longer high school and he wasn’t constantly crammed in a building with the same faces day in and day out. She didn’t look like a high schooler – she was, what, maybe a little older than him? College kid who was back in town for the holidays? He didn’t have much longer to consider, taking in her auburn perm and the pretty lilac eye shadow she’d daubed across the corners of her eyes.

“Hi.” She said simply, placing her manicured hands on the edge of the counter. She smiled at Steve, and it was radiant. He wished she hadn’t chosen today of all days to suddenly appear in all her mouth-watering perfection.

“Hey.” He offered back, managing to neither hitch or gasp. “Do you need any assistance today?”

She slowly drummed her pretty fingers on the counter – expensive manicure, French tipped nails.

“I’m visiting my girlfriends over summer break and we’re having a pizza party. I was really hoping you might know of any decent romcoms –“ She paused for a moment, eyes flicking to his badge then back up to his face – “Steve.”

He tried so, so hard not to let the way she practically purred his name affect him, but this was feeling more and more like a wet dream by the second. The only way he knew for certain it wasn’t was the evil little tickle, prickling away and making his nostrils flare for just a moment. He hoped she hadn’t noticed but how could she not, making eyes at him like that. He reached up with a crooked finger, allowing himself the briefest of rubs before flashing her right on back with one of his best-practiced smiles.

“I’d be happy to help a customer in need, Ms…?”

“Clara. Call me Clara.”

She flipped her silky hair over her shoulder, a charming gesture that exposed the column of her elegant neck – but Steve had barely a moment to focus on it before a sudden wave of lavender smacked him in the face. She was wearing perfume – an overwhelming amount of the stuff.

Unable to help it, he coughed into an upraised fist, then used his knuckles to quell the tickle that seemed to almost explode in a fizz of sensation. He’d spent all day pleading with his body to make him sneeze, and the second it seemed to want to comply, he wanted anything but. Fuck his life. Fuck it hard.

“Ah, sorry.” He started, hoping his tone came across as easy-going and unselfconscious. “Just a touch of allergies.”

It was a lie – he had no clue what the fuck had gotten into him. Maybe he was getting sick after all – but the last thing he wanted to do was offend Clara. His response seemed to mollify her, her expression of disappointment morphing into a much more jovial countenance. He didn’t want to read into it too much, but she kind of looked a little…excited? He could work with that.

“Aw, that’s too bad.” Clara twirled a lock of her hair round her finger, looking at him with unmasked interest, eyes lidded and pupils blown. Oh, he could definitely work with that. He nodded at her.

“It’s not ideal, Clara, but I can handle it. Not gonna let a little bit of pollen stop me from providing ladies such as yourself with only the best of service.”

He smiled at her again, laying it on a little thick, hoping it would compensate for the way his nostrils kept twitching. It seemed to work like a charm – she looked positively spellbound, gently chewing on her bottom lip, eyes periodically flitting back and forth from his nose and eyes. Huh. Maybe she liked a little bit of vulnerability in her men.

“You’re a card.” She giggled back at him.

It felt good to get back into the swing of easy-going flirtation. It was almost enough for him to ignore the tickle raging in his sinuses. Almost. He sniffled, grinding the knuckle of a forefinger into the side of his nose and squinting one eye shut. It helped to prevent him from launching into another buildup, and luckily Clara seemed not to mind. She reached out to pat him conciliatorily on the arm he had rested on the counter.

“You poor thing. Got a tickle?”

The way she was looking at him right now was a look he was painfully familiar with – those were bedroom eyes she was ravishing him with. But right now? When he looked like…this? Man, who was this chick? He decided to roll with it.

“Such a tickle. It just won’t leave me alone – I’ve been sniffling all day.”

Okay, now that really seemed to work – little spots of red were starting to appear on her cheeks, visible under her expertly applied makeup. She even looked picture perfect when she blushed. He didn’t understand why she was blushing, but it was electrifying all the same.

“Enough about me, though.” He lowered the hand he had been bullying his nose with to rest on top of her own. She shuddered almost imperceptibly. “Let’s find you ladies a movie.”

~~~~~~

Clara was cool and all, but she truly didn’t seem to understand the concept of personal space. She was right up against Steve’s side as he launched into a little spiel about their most popular movies, his own recommendations, and just the odd little bit of movie trivia he’d managed to absorb from Robin that he hoped would really seal the deal of his own expertise. Clara nodded along eagerly, asking him for more details on each and every movie. He got the distinct feeling that she was dragging this out and keeping him talking on purpose. He was happy to oblige, but the malingering tickle was clearly fed up with being ignored for as long as it had been.

He’d launched into two separate buildups already, turning away from Clara and burying his face in the upraised collar of his polo shirt. Each had ended with more embarrassingly loud false starts before he inevitably deflated, turning back to her with an apology and a sheepish smile. Each time she had assured him it was no problem at all, edging even closer. Her pupils were huge.

“So, what are you thinking?” Steve smiled at her.

“Hmm?”

“About the movies? Any idea which ones?”

“Oh! Umm…maybe those ones?” She seemed a little bashful about the suddenly all too obvious way she’d been staring. It was nothing new to him – girls staring at him like he was a total dreamboat. It was extremely flattering, no matter how often it happened.

“Sure thing.”

He reached over her shoulder to grab one of the cassettes she was pointing towards – they were stood almost flush together, the way Clara had angled herself between him and the wall shelves. There was hardly any wriggle room, the corner of a perpendicular row of shelves pressing into his back. Ordinarily, this would have been a simple manoeuvre – a tantalising moment of fleeting physical connection, video tape obtained, guaranteed swooning on any girl’s part. But Clara, instead of melting back against his chest, spun round in surprise, looking up at him with heated eyes.

He wouldn’t have minded this, her breasts almost pushing against his chest and her pretty face so close to his, but that overwhelming lavender scent…It was almost unbearable. Not to mention that her squirming as he leaned forward meant he’d gotten a faceful of tickly, soft perm, just as saturated with the cloying floral scent as the rest of her. The omnipresent tickle exploded with renewed sensation at the double combo of internal and external stimulation.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was gonna sneeze. It was so imminent and so overpowering, and he was trapped between Clara and the shelves. Even without the building pressure rendering him immobile it would have required an awkward amount of wriggling to escape his current situation without pressing right up against her. And maybe he would have, if he wasn’t at fucking work, if he wasn’t about to sneeze all over this beautiful fucking girl. He shuddered with a sudden, uncontrollable gasp, mouth dropping open in a desperate gape. He was surprised he didn’t lose all control then and there, but he managed to hold back through sheer willpower. He turned his watering, rapidly closing eyes on her and tried to utter a warning, a plea that she get herself out of his way before it was too late.

“Hh-! C-Clara, I’m g-hh!! Gonnahh-hHH!! HUHH!!”

It was too much. Hours and hours of teasing torment, the tickle playing with him, bringing him to the peak of release then pulling him back over and over – it was all about to come to an end. He’d done all he could, he’d warned her; now he simply had to give in and let his body work himself up to that long sought-after release.

His nostrils flared to capacity, the round ellipses of them even more apparent in contrast to the sleek, pointed shape of his nose at rest. His eyebrows rose in a beatific acceptance of the approaching climax; his mouth hung gently open, pink tongue curling as he gasped. His lungs filled with air until they could fill no more.

“HhUH! HUHH! HUHHDTt-!!”

He couldn’t help the way his chest swelled and jumped, expanding with every desperate inhale, but even through the sneeze-induced paralysis he could have sworn Clara moved closer still. There was enough room for her slender figure to weasel her way around him, enough time as the mounting sensation rendered him frozen, but no. They were almost face to face. It was mortifying – he couldn’t believe what was about to happen. But he hurtled towards the climactic release all the same, and for a few seconds whilst he held onto a final inhalation in statuesque serenity, his mind turned blank and all he could focus on was the sweet anticipation of a truly colossal surrender.

And so, it was happening. It was finally happening. He was vaguely aware of Clara pushing her body up against him, nuzzling into him, and then it was exploding out of him in a dizzying rush of air and spray.

“HUUUUHHHHRISSSHHHHAHHHH!!!”

Ohh fuck. That felt so fucking good. He trembled with it, forced forward and into Clara, bracing himself with one hand on the wall shelf. He barely had a moment to luxuriate in the release before the tickle flared again, even more insistently, and he was gasping and cringing into a second monstrous sneeze.

“AEGK’TISSSSSSHHHHHHH’IEWWW!!”

That one felt even better. The pleasure of an itch well scratched sent a delicious commotion of goosebumps up and down the skin of his arms. But again, he wasn’t finished. He inhaled deeply, lustily, surrendering entirely and beckoning in a third explosion.

“HAHHH’YISHHHHHIEWWWW!!”

He let it do as it would with him, rocking him forward and sending a shiver down his spine. He almost moaned at its conclusion but was shocked to feel yet another sneeze beginning to swell. He tilted his head back, inviting it in – when he was brought back into himself by a gentle little gasp that was decidedly not his own.

Fuck. Clara. She was clinging to him now, pressed between him and the shelves. He was suddenly all too aware of her presence; the soft, fluffy hair rubbing against his cheek. He could have died of mortification. He wanted to, but his body wanted to sneeze even more. He managed to lift his shaky free hand around Clara’s shoulder and up to his face, just a moment too late as the fourth barrelled through him. It doused his fingers with a heavy spray as they lingered a foot away from his flaring nostrils.

“TISHHHHHHHHH’UUUU!!”

He snuffled, finally bringing his hand to face for the next one – and just in time. The harsh sneeze brought not only a fresh dousing of spray, but the dams of his sinuses finally burst, and a splattering of light mess graced his palm.

“HH’RIIISSSSSCHHHH!! HAH’AEGK’TSCHHHHIEWWW!!”

That sneeze brought a friend, just as messy and violent. God, would it ever end? He was getting lightheaded from the sheer force of the releases, in equal amounts pleasurable and exhausting. He sniffled hard, the sound thick and crackling. He felt like if he could just get the residual tickle out in one last, huge explosion, he could put an end to it. Even as the sneeze built, he continued to sniffle, fanning the flames of the tickle and increasing the irritation beyond what he thought his body capable. This was going to be big, even for him.

“HAHHHdTT-!! HAHHHH’GITTSCHHHHHH’IEWWW!!!”

Holy fuck. He couldn’t help the little moan of pleasure that escaped him afterwards, clutching his dripping hand to his face. He stood there, almost swaying, as he came back to himself. What a fucking fit – definitely the worst he’d had in recent history, even worse than the ones brought on by the cold he’d managed to catch last Christmas.

After a couple of seconds of sheer, self-indulgent bliss, he realised Clara was embracing him, rubbing a tentative hand up and down his back as he practically leant over her, pressing her into the shelf. He hadn’t realised quite how much the sneezes had thrown him forward and backed her up – she was practically sandwiched in place. His face flushed and he withdrew in a sudden clumsy scramble, ignoring the pain of the shelf that prodded into his back and managing at last to put some space between them.

Clara was red in the face, looking absolutely dumbfounded. It was bad enough, that he had practically smothered her at his place of work, but worst of all, his eyes could make out the distinctive darkened patches of moisture all over her pretty pink blouse. His sneezes, all over the fabric, so damp that it was almost clinging to her skin in places. Now he really wanted to die.

“Fuck, I am so, so sorry-!” He scrambled for a clean tissue one handed, his other hand still precariously pressed against his messy face, then started dabbing ineffectively at the saturated fabric of her blouse once he managed to yank one out of his pocket.

“No, it’s – it’s fine, honestly.” She said, gently taking the tissue from him and resuming his work, and he just had to take her word for it. She looked shy, but not disgusted. If anything, she looked – no. Surely the fuck not.

He extracted another tissue and turned away from her, grimacing as he wiped his hands and face clean. He hesitated for a short moment, glancing around the store and finding it empty – sweet Jesus in heaven, thank you. It took him several tissues to successfully blow his nose, but once he’d finished, he felt brand new. Completely purged of the tickle, he was an irritation-free man.

“Bless you.”

He turned around, a fresh wave of mortification crashing over him. The damage to her shirt had barely been dented by the measly little tissue. He’d effectively super-soaked her. It took all his remaining energy not to cringe and flee into the back of the store.

“I’m so sorry, Clara. I totally sneezed all over you. I promise I’m not getting sick. Shit.”

She smiled at him as he fumbled over his words, appearing not the least bit worried about getting sick at all.

“Honestly, Steve. It’s okay.”

He caught himself just before he cocked his head at her like a dog. This was not a normal response to being sneezed and spit on. Maybe she was just really, really kind. The alternative was much more ridiculous – he wouldn’t entertain it.

“You’re being so nice about this but I feel like such a jerk. I’ve been needing that all day and I just – couldn’t control it.”

“I could tell.” She giggled, looking more than okay to be in receipt of that information. Okay, so maybe she was more than just kind. He smiled back at her, relieved in more ways than one. Fuck, it had been great to sneeze, and being able to do so – making a total fucking mess of himself in front of a beautiful girl, who even seemed to like it – he would never curse his bad luck again. Deciding to test the waters a little, he rubbed a finger under his damp, flaring nostrils, delighting in the way her eyes followed the motion.

“Actually, it smells great and all but I think your perfume might be bothering me a little. Not that that’s a bad thing. I’d rather sneeze like that all day than be stuck with a tickle that won’t go away.”

He flashed her one of the cockiest grins he could muster. She looked like she was about to swoon.

“You really helped me out there.”

“Really?” She all but sighed, stepping towards him – and bringing with her a fresh wave of lavender.

“Y-yeah. Sorry, Clara, I’m gonna-!”

He managed to bring a new tissue up to his nose, quaking as an earth-shattering double raced through him and exploded into the soft paper.

“HAGK’TISSSSSSHHHH!! AESSSHHHHHUUU!! Ohh, god. Bless me.”

Clara offered him a breathy ‘Bless you’ of her own, which he thanked enthusiastically, making a show of wiping his nostrils clean. This seemed to have an almost hypnotic effect on her, broken only when he asked her if she’d still like to rent any movies.

“What?” She blinked her big, pretty eyes at him. He smiled.

“Want me to ring those movies up for you? These two, right?”

He reached for the tapes she’d been after and held them up for her to consider.

“Oh. Um. Yeah, those would be great, thanks.” She seemed embarrassed, like a spell had suddenly been broken and she finally realised she’d been making the sultriest bedroom eyes at him in the middle of an open store again.

He nodded, making his way back to the desk and gesturing for her to follow. He was almost euphoric as he updated her information on the computer. If one could experience afterglow from sneezing alone, he was definitely there. He just wanted to laze around and bask in the joy of being entirely tickle free, completely purged of all irritation. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, being teased and tormented like that, if the final result felt so damn good.

“Here you go! All set.”

He handed her the tapes with a winning smile and she took them with a little smile of her own. His eyes drifted to the speckled fabric of her blouse, still drenched with the result of his sneezing.

“Listen, I know you said you don’t mind but I still feel real awful about ruining your top. Will you let me pay for dry cleaning?”

She fixed him with another heated glance, twirling her pretty hair round her finger.

“I’d rather you use the money to take me out sometime.”

He grinned.

“Yeah? I can make that happen. You have a number I can call?”

Steve was grinning like an idiot and waving goodbye to a giggling Clara when Robin nearly made him jump out of his skin for the second time that day.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Jesus, Robin! That’s it, I’m getting you a bell.”

The irritation he intended to exude was clearly lost in translation, likely due to the fact that he couldn’t stop the smug grinning. Robin jabbed him in the ribs with her finger until he squirmed in protest.

“Who was that?”

He set about stacking tapes, enjoying the way Robin’s frustration built as he turned away from her. She poked him harder.

“Steve, tell me who that crazy hot girl was and why she was still making eyes at you even after you snotted all over her right now.”

He groaned. He mustn’t have heard her come back in – which made total sense. He could have been on another planet for how out of it that sneezing had made him.

“How long were you watching?”

“Long enough.” Robin smirked, before handing him a sandwich. He took it gratefully.

“You’re a saint, Robs.”

“Worked up an appetite?” She smirked at him, taking a bite out of her own. Keith would have chewed them out for eating out front, but Steve couldn’t care less. He practically tore into his own, getting sauce all over the tip of his nose with the sheer voracity of his bite.

“You could say that.” He mumbled round a mouthful of bread and meat. “Her name is Clara.” He offered before taking another huge bite.

“I’ve never seen her before.”

“Me neither. Think she’s from out of town, visiting friends. Didn’t really ask. College girl.”

“She was cute. And totally weird.”

“That’s a fucking understatement. I can’t believe I sneezed all over her and she still wants me take her on a date.”

“Steve, you’re great, but believe me, if I could figure out what the fuck it is you manage to do to charm these girls, I would bottle that shit and make a million in sales overnight.”

“Hmm. This felt different though. I think she – maybe liked me more? After I started sneezing? She kept giving me these eyes, Robin – and I wasn’t even trying.”

“Well,” Robin started with a gentle slap on his shoulder. “If you figure it out, let me know. Maybe all I need to do is start sneezing on the girls I like.”

“Shut up, man!” Steve called after her as she sauntered away, laughing through another huge mouthful of food.

He didn’t know what the fuck this girl’s deal was, but with any luck, she would let him know in the back of his car. Or in the back of a movie theatre. Or in her bed. And he hoped she was wearing that perfume when she did.

#I had so much fun writing this. like. so much #s/tranger t/hings #nametakenfic #sneeze fic #sneeze kink #snz kink #snzfucker #sneeze fucker #snz fet #snzblr

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wolfjackle-creates · 3 months

Text

Bring Me Home Arc 3 Part 3

Again the winner of last week's poll! There won't be a poll this week because I'm planning something a bit different. I hit 1000 followers this past week and have been wracking my brain about how to celebrate! Wasn't up for doing prompts or adding more projects to my list, though, so I didn't want to go that route.

But I did come up with something that I think everyone will really enjoy. Especially those of you who have been voting for Carry Your Heart (I see you in the tags!). So look out for that post.

In addition, I've just posted the first chapter of Arc 2 on AO3! Link below.

Story Summary: Jack and Maddie install a new ghost shield on the house which activates the moment Danny tries to step into his home. His secret is out and his parents are determined to excise the ghost from their son.

Luckily Danny isn't alone. The Young Justice, Sam, Tucker, and Jazz aren't going to leave him to suffer.

Arc 1: AO3

Arc 2: AO3 (incomplete); Tumblr - First, Final

Arc 3: First, Previous

Word Count: 1.4k

-----

Fire rushing through him jolted Danny awake. His back arched as he cried out. He screwed his eyes tight, not wanting to see what torture his parents were going to come at him with next when he realized what the sound of his cry meant: the muzzle was gone.

As were the restraints. And he was lying on something soft. Trying hard not to hope, he opened his eyes.

Sam and Jazz were leaning over him, concern clear on their faces. They were in some sort of ambulance or van.

“How are you feeling,” demanded Sam.

Danny took a moment to answer, his chest was pure agony. He didn’t even want to think what it would feel like to sit up. And even past that, everything was sore. Though the fire that had woken him up had dissipated, the tell-tale feel of ecto-dejecto. “Pretty much the worst I’ve ever felt,” he answered honestly.

Sam and Jazz both winced and his sister grabbed his hand. He squeezed her fingers weakly.

At the foot of his bed stood Tim in full Red Robin getup and Kon as Superboy.

He couldn’t hold back the smile as he met Tim’s gaze. “You came,” he said.

Tim didn’t smile back, but some tension eased out of his shoulders. “I always will,” he said. “Been telling you that since we were ten years old.”

“I know. I’ve always known. Thank you.”

Jazz squeezed his hand again and he looked at her. “Red Robin and Superboy are going to take you away from here. Robin will help you recover.”

Sam nodded. “Yep. And the rest of us are gonna focus on making sure Amity is safe for ghosts once and for all.”

Danny shook his head. “I should be there with you guys, fighting.”

“Nope!” interrupted Jazz. “Not even a little. You’re going to focus on getting better, got it, Danny? That’s all we want from you.”

“But the ghosts—”

Sam covered his mouth with her hand. “Stop it right there. Tucker is working with Impulse and Wonder Girl to get the portal locked up. No one will be coming through. No one—ghost or human—will be in any danger while you’re gone. I promise.”

Danny slumped into the bed. Even the slight change in position caused waves of pain to radiate from his chest even through the healing ice he could feel implanted in his body. He whimpered and closed his eyes until the throbbing receded just a bit. “I trust you. I do, it’s just…”

“You’re used to taking care of everyone,” finished Jazz for him. “We know. So let us take care of you for a change. We love you, Danny.”

“Love you, too, Jazz. Sam.”

“Be good for bird-brain there, got it?” ordered Sam.

Danny gave her a half-smile. “Are Tim and I ever good together?”

She laughed. “Well, don’t burn down Gotham, capiche?”

“Capiche.”

“We have to go now,” said Jazz.

Danny gripped her hand tighter. “Don’t leave me.”

Jazz winced, but leaned down to kiss his forehead. “We need to make sure the Guys in White aren’t going to get involved further. And you need to get someplace safe.”

Danny huffed a half laugh. “Gotham is safe?”

Jazz rolled her eyes at his poor attempt at a joke. “For you it is. Now, I’m leaving Red and Superboy with a case full of ectoplasm for you and our entire supply of ecto-dejecto. I just gave you your first injection. Please try and eat something and drink your ectoplasm regularly.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Jazz.”

Jazz sniffed and it was only then that Danny realized it was wetter than usual and her eyes were watery. He tried not to feel bad for his jokes when she replied, “Yes, it is whatever I say. Glad you agree.”

Sam cackled, and now that he was paying attention, Danny could hear the hysterical edge to it. “You’d better text us multiple times a day, ghost boy. Don’t try and lie to us, either. Kon’ll tell me the truth about your condition. And as soon as we can arrange it, we’re coming out your way for a visit.”

“Course I will, Sam. Give Tuck my best?”

“Duh. He wishes he could’ve come with us, you know.”

Danny nodded. “But he’s better with the tech stuff and that is just as time sensitive.”

“Yeah. Now, get some sleep,” Sam ordered. “You’ve got a long drive ahead of you.”

Danny gave the rote answer after too many all-nighters taking care of ghost attacks before school, “I’m dead, I don’t need sleep.”

His sister squeezed his hand. “Ghosts who just went through what you did need their sleep. Love you, Danny. Get well and I’ll see you soon.”

“Love you, Jazz.”

She kissed his forehead one more time, followed by Sam. And with another two rounds of farewells and love yous, he was alone with Tim and Kon.

“Thanks for coming,” he said again.

“Obviously we weren’t going to leave you there,” said Kon. “Being a lab subject isn’t fun. Especially not that kinda lab experiment.”

Danny couldn’t quite hold back the flinch at that description. It was accurate, but blunt.

Tim walked over until he was sitting by Danny’s bed. “Just listen to Jazz and get some rest. We’re going to be taking the long route to Gotham by going south to start. If we stop for food in a few hours, think you could handle a smoothie?”

Danny shrugged and bit back a yawn. “Could try.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Kon moved towards the front of the vehicle as well. “Looks like it’s time for us to skedaddle. I’ll keep the road from jostling you, ghost-boy.”

Danny gave a small smile and let his eyes close. As he did, he tried to mumble his thanks and he hoped it came across.

---

The next time he woke was more gentle. Someone was tapping on his shoulder and calling his name. But even so, as he was pulled closer to awareness, the pain made itself more and more known. He tried to cling to the darkness, but the tapping wasn’t stopping, nor was the person calling him.

He blinked open his eyes to see Tim’s concerned face. He wasn’t wearing the domino anymore, or his costume. Just a sweatshirt and jeans.

“Hey, Danny,” said Tim. “I’m going to need you to try and eat a bit right now. Kon got us those smoothies I mentioned. I’ve also got yogurt if that’ll be easier for you. But the smoothie will have more nutrients.”

Danny closed his eyes. He wasn’t hungry and didn’t want to eat. Why did Tim have to bring him back to consciousness for this? He hurt and just wanted to sink back into oblivion.

The tapping on his shoulder began again. “I know, Danny. But you have to eat something. And you should take some ectoplasm, too. So just stay awake for a few minutes.”

“Mm ‘wake,” said Danny without opening his eyes. He shifted his weight, hoping to push himself up to eat, only to scream in pain as his chest protested any movement.

“Shit! Don’t move,” said Tim too late. “I’ve got a spoon here. I’ll feed it to you, okay? So just stay exactly where you are.”

Danny gripped his sheets, unable to do anything else as wave after wave of pain over took him. Tim kept up a litany of reassurances and stroked his hair. Eventually, Danny was able to think past it again.

“Don’t think I can sit up,” said Danny.

“Of course not,” agreed Tim. He held a styrofoam cup between his knees and carefully took off the lid and straw. “Just let me. Take at least a few bites. Swallow as is, don’t try and chew. Just do what you can, okay?”

“Okay,” agreed Danny and Tim fed him the first bite.

Danny hated this. Hated it so much. Here he was being spoon fed like a baby all because his parents… He shut his eyes and took the next bite. He wasn’t going to finish that thought. Tim was here and that’s what mattered.

Danny wasn’t sure how much he ate, but it couldn’t have been much. His eyelids were getting heavier and heavier and the pull of oblivion stronger.

“Wait, Danny. Stay awake just a little longer, okay?”

Danny groaned but forced his eyes open again.

Tim showed him a bottle of ectoplasm. “Just a few swallows of this, too. Okay?”

He didn’t want to. He’d rather just go to sleep again, but he opened his mouth obediently. By the time he finished his third spoonful, he couldn’t fight it anymore and slumped into the bed. The pain receded back into blackness for a time.

-----

If you want to be notified when I update, please check out the Subscription Post!

Danny is going to be getting all the comfort throughout this. All of them will, tbh. Because no one is happy and they all need a hug or five.

Let me know what you think!

#dpxdc #danny fenton #tim drake #jazz fenton #sam manson #aftermath of torture #fleeing to safety #sam tucker and jazz will manage things in amity #and the justice league will be getting involved

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thatfanficstuff · 1 month

Text

Breakeven - Jonas Taylor (The Meg)

Pairing: Jonas Taylor x Reader

Warnings: nope

A/N: Inspired by the song Breakeven by The Script. I was having trouble finding a Jonas Taylor fic that fit what I was looking for so I wrote one. The story of my life. Enjoy.

Jonas Taylor’s gaze swept around the flurry of activity surrounding him. He’d just left the infirmary after making certain his sister would recover from the injury she’d received when her sub had been attacked. He needed a shower and a change of clothes but he was too busy searching the halls of Mana One for your familiar silhouette. He hadn’t seen you since the two of you divorced and now that he was so close to you, he felt the need to find you. To assure himself that you were still whole and alive.

Finally, he caught a glimpse of you as you conferred with Suyin, both your heads bent over a tablet as she showed you something. He sucked in a breath as his chest tightened, an odd mix of longing and bitterness churning inside him. He shoved down the rush of emotions threatening to surface, schooling his features into his normal flat expression. He had to appear unaffected. He couldn’t let you know how affected he was by your presence, how the pain clawed at his insides.

“I thought you were going to clean up,” Mac’s voice interrupted. His friend followed his line of sight to see you. “Oh.” He dropped a hand on Jonas’ shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.

Jonas shrugged him off and gave him a tight smile. “Got sidetracked is all.”

“I see that,” Mac agreed as he put his hands in his pockets and followed Jonas as he walked away from you. They walked in silence for a bit, steps echoing in the quiet hall.

Jonas licked his lips. “Seems like she’s doing okay after everything.” Bitterness colored his words though he’d tried to hide it. He hated that he was torn in pieces, aimless without you and you didn’t seem bothered in the least. It was bullshit.

Mac studied him for a moment. “She’s keeping her head up.” He grabbed his friend by the arm and pulled him into a room. “Let’s have a drink. You look like you could use one.”

Jonas nodded and took a seat in what was clearly Mac’s private room. He sipped at his drink as he watched Mac contemplate something. Jonas knew the look well and waited for his friend to come to a decision.

“You’ve got it all wrong you know,” Mac finally said with a furrowed brow.

“What have I got wrong?”

“It killed her to file those papers.”

Jonas snorted. “I find that unlikely. No, she thought I was crazy just like everyone else and left rather than stand by me like she should have.”

Mac shook his head. “I promised her I wouldn’t say anything, but I’m tired of holding her while she cries over you. I love her like a sister, but she needs you.”

“Then why the hell did she leave?” Jonas tried and failed to mask the desperation in his words.

“Because,” Mac hesitated, swirling his drink as if searching for courage in its depths. “Because the old bastard gave her an ultimatum.” Jonas knew instantly he must be talking about your father. None of you liked him but he was too wealthy and powerful to just write off. Mac sighed, regret contorting his features. “He threatened dire consequences, Jonas. Said you’d suffer if she didn’t cut ties.”

A heavy weight settled in his stomach. If your father wasn’t already dead, he’d kill him for threatening you. For making you too scared to come to him. “Threatened? What did he do, Mac?” His grip tightened on his glass, knuckles whitening.

“He didn’t want your presence staining his good name as he put it. Said he’d use all of his resources to make sure you were broke and homeless with no where to turn. He told her there wasn’t a corner of the Earth where you would be safe from him. Then he told her if she tried to run with you, he’d make certain she’d never see you alive again.” Mac’s voice was little more than a whisper by the end, heavy with the burden of the knowledge he’d been carrying.

A cold shock washed over Jonas, followed by a surge of anger that left him breathless. Your father hadn’t threatened you. He’d threatened Jonas. You’d shattered your entire world to protect him. His breath came heavy and he placed his glass on the table in front of him, afraid he’d drop it otherwise. He ran a hand over his head. “Damn it.” How hadn’t he seen this? Why hadn’t he demanded more answers from you? Why had he just assumed you were abandoning him like everyone else? “I can’t believe she never—”

“Hey,” Mac interrupted gently, placing a hand on Jonas’s back. “You didn’t know because she didn’t want you to. She walked away to keep you safe.”

“Safe,” Jonas echoed, the word bitter on his tongue. The truth of your motivations stripped him of his resentment, leaving a raw, gaping wound in its wake.

“Jonas,” Mac’s voice softened, “she loved you enough to let you go but she was far from okay with it. It tore her up. Still does.”

He clenched his jaw as he processed everything he’d just been told. If you loved him that much, maybe there was still hope for the two of you.

You’d taken to hiding in your room since Jonas arrived, leaving only when you were made to. You hadn’t even been to see Lori in the infirmary afraid you’d run into him there. Mac had been trying to get you to tell Jonas the truth since your father died, but you just couldn’t. He’d hate you for breaking his heart, regardless of the circumstances. It was better to just let him move on without you. For him to find his happiness even if you never did.

A knock at your door reverberated through the room. You opened it without checking who was on the other side. An action you regrated instantly when you found yourself face to face with the love of your life. “Jonas,” you whispered, your voice breaking on the word.

He greeted you in return before pushing gently past you and stepping into the room. You shut the door behind him, your hand trembling against the cold steel. “I didn’t expect—”

“Neither did I,” he said cutting you off. “Why did you do it? Why did you leave me?”

The words hung between you as your eyes searched his, wondering why he suddenly wanted to have this conversation when he’d never asked at the time. “Jonas, I…” you trailed off not certain what you could say to get him to possibly forgive you.

“Please,” he pleaded as his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. “I heard things about your father, about threats. I need to hear it from you. The truth.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Your gaze faltered, drifting away before finding its way back to him. “I…you don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand,” he said, stepping closer.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as your heart raced, pounding against your ribs. “My father threatened everything. I never wanted to leave you but if I stayed, if I fought for you…He might have been bluffing, but I couldn’t risk it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion. “Why didn’t you ask for my help?”

A laugh escaped you then, a cold, bitter sound of disbelief. “How could I, Jonas? Threats from my father aside, you’d been pushing me away since the day everything went to shit. I tried to help you, tried to back you and you didn’t want it. When my father gave me the ultimatum, I figured it wouldn’t matter much to you anyway. It didn’t matter if I was broken, as long as you were okay.”

You couldn’t bear to look at him as hot tears trailed down your cheeks. Strong hands gripped yours and you sucked in a breath in surprise. “Listen to me,” Jonas ordered. “I always knew you deserved better than me and I didn’t want to drag you down with me, but nothing, absolutely nothing would ever make me quit loving you.”

When you said nothing he squeezed your hands. “Say you believe me,” he whispered. “Believe that in a million moments, in a million lifetimes, I would always choose you.”

Your eyes found his, wanting to believe his words. Gods you wanted to. And as he gazed at you full of hope and love and desperation, you found that you did. Could the two of you really have another chance? With your father and his threats gone from your lives, what was stopping you?

Jonas leaned forward suddenly and you barely had time to catch your breath before his lips met yours in a kiss that was both an apology and a plea. His hands moved to cup your face tenderly as if you could vanish in an instant.

Pulling back just enough to meet your stunned gaze, Jonas ran his eyes over your face as if memorizing your features. Whatever he found must have made him happy as a wide grin curled his lips. “Marry me,” he breathed. “Be mine again. Forever this time.”

The sincerity in his eyes was undeniable. Fresh tears trailed the paths of the previous ones but this time they were happy, full of love and hope. You brushed your lips against his as you whispered his name.

He kissed you again, needy and wanting, before resting his forehead against yours. “Is that a yes?”

You chuckled. “Yeah, baby, that’s a yes.”

His hands trembled slightly as he pulled you into his chest and wrapped his arms around you. He buried his face into the curve of your neck and inhaled your still familiar scent. For the first time since you walked out the door all those years ago, he felt whole.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered against his skin.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. As long as you never leave my side again everything will be fine.” As he pressed a kiss to your temple, there was a knock on your door.

“Go away,” he called, making you laugh.

There was a stretch of silence before you heard Mac say your name in question which only made you laugh harder. You pulled away to answer your door, Jonas moving with you. Mac looked between the two of you, before grinning like an idiot. “I’m sorry to interrupt this, like you have no idea how sorry, but we’ve got a meeting to talk about the meg.”

You nodded and moved to follow him before Jonas grabbed your arm and pulled you back. “We’ll be there in a minute,” his rough voice said as he shut the door in Mac’s face.

When he turned you and pressed you against the door as he kissed you deeply, all your protests disappeared. This is where you belonged. Right here with your husband as if the last five years had never happened. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you kissed him back and wondered if they really needed you to tell them to kill the giant shark before it ate everyone. Surely they could figure that out on their own.

#jonas taylor fanfiction #jonas taylor x reader #the meg fanfiction #jason statham fanfiction

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tkmasquerade · 2 months

Text

Royal punishment in the name of jambalaya

Summary: After discovering her father was suffering more than she thought, Charlie takes the oportunity to make the king of hell just let go and laugh, to make him feel better, disguising her intention with a punishment for messing with Alastor's jambalaya.

Content Warnings: Lucifer dealing with his depression and missing his wife, use of sleeping pills, canon-typical language, brief mild violence, use of restraints, a lot of fluff and playful tickling.

Word Count: 3,356 words. By: Witch Anon

It was late at night in the hotel, most of the residents were asleep or going to.

The king of hell was one of them. During the day he kept an easy-going demeanor for his daughter and everyone else, but at night, specially just before bed and when nobody is watching, his mask fell off.

Ever since his queen disappeared he had to become a rock his daughter could lean on, always reassuring her everything was going to be okay, he had to be strong to rule hell and to be a father... but every night he just missed her, his only rock he could lean onto, his life partner was gone...

The princess of hell, Charlie Morningstar, was taking one last stroll in the hallways of the hotel, getting close to his father's room, to wish him good night, but before she could even say something, she saw him by the barely open door and just watched.

She watched the king walk over his bed and sit on it, with a sad expression on his face. He took his hat off and his boots, and then looked at his hand... and took it to his mouth, in the motion like someone taking a medicine or a pill, and that exactly what the king was doing... next thing Charlie saw was Lucifer gulping down the pill, staring to the space, and smiled softly as que positioned himself better on the bed... and then...

".... Lilith..." he said in soft voice, but loud enough for his daughter to hear him.

Next thing that happened was the king softly falling on his back in the soft bed, starting to softly snore after a few seconds.

Charlie gasped when she saw that, and entered the room, avoiding to step in any of the rubber ducks scattered in the floor until she reached her father's bed, she tried to shake him a bit to see if she could wake him up but nope, he was out like a light... she looked around for a few seconds until she saw a medicine bottle and read it... sleeping pills, from the sloth ring, there was five of them in the bottle... it wasn’t difficult to put two and two together... she already knew he suffered depression, he himself confessed it to her after staying in the hotel, but now seeing he needed pills to sleep, probably because of sleepless nights told her it was worse than she thought... he really missed her mom, his wife.

"Ow... dad..." she whispered, looking at her sleeping father... she thought of at least tucking him in but she didn't want him to know she was there and saw that, so she quietly left the room, closing the door behind her.

She sighed, she wanted to help him, now knowing all the times Lucifer was there with her, he pretended to be all fine and okay, but carrying a really heavy load of negativity on his shoulders... she walked towards her room, maybe she could think in something in the morning.

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

A good night sleep didn't mean he wouldn't feel empty when he woke up.

The king slowly woke up, still being able to remember his blissful dream of his days back in Eden, back when he was an angel just resting his head on Lilith's lap, enjoying her voice, he could still feel her hands petting and combing his hair and wings... but he had to come back to reality.

It always happened, he would dream with her and feel sad in the morning because it was just a dream... but there was no time to feel like that, the day was starting, and as king he had to be ready for the day. He dragged himself to the bathroom to get a shower and get ready, that day deciding to just stay in white pants and a red tank top, Charlie already told him he could be casual at the hotel and be relaxed, he didn't had to be dressed like a king all the time, and he was happy to oblige.

Soon the king exits his room, his hooves tapping softly in the carpet as he made his way towards the lobby to have breakfast. During his walk he took the time to see the details and effort his daughter made to make the hotel look amazing, how her dedication could be seen in every corner, every flowerpot, how clean everything was... and couldn't help to think...

"Lilith would have love to see what our little girl has accomplished..." he said with a small smile.

A loud squealing ripped the king out of his deep thoughts, catching his attention and making him go faster in the hallway towards the source of the noise.

What surprise it was to go into the lobby of the hotel where a squirming Niffty was squealing and giggling up a storm in the claws of the radio demon himself, Alastor. The red deer currently had the maid lifted and secured in his hands and he was nibbling at the smaller demon's tummy, growling playfully. Niffty was giggling madly, her hands grabbing at Alastor's ear and hair but not really pushing him off, meaning she was actually happy and enjoying the moment. Husk was cleaning some cups in his bar nearby, for a moment smiling fondly at the sight, and then continuing to be grumpy as always. Angel was sitting in the other side of the couch, smirking watching the scene.

"Damn smiles, you're going to kill her of laughter if you keep going like that" the porn star said in amusement, actually having fun watching.

"Oh, don't be silly my feminine fellow~ she already dead!" the radio demon laughed.

Lucifer stayed in the door of the lobby, watching the scene, and couldn't help to smile softly watching, remembering how he used to play like that when Charlie was little, the little hell born squealing and giggling in his hands... it was a nice memory.

"Dad?"

Charlie's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and the king looked at his daughter "Ah! Char-Char, sorry heh, good morning!" he said with his usual fake cheery voice.

"Ummm morning... did you sleep well?" Charlie asked casually.

"Like a baby~" he stretched a bit, what's for breakfast?

"Oh! well we're making bacon and eggs, for lunch we will have vegetable stew and at night Alastor said he was going to make jambalaya for everyone" Charlie explained, guiding his father to the kitchen.

"Really? Bambi is going to make dinner?" he said looking at the red demon, who even still playing with the maid gave him a little glare.

"Daaaaaad, i told you to call him by his name, i don't want another fight" Charlie said annoyed.

"Heheh, alright alright... i don't promise anything tho~" Lucifer smirked.

Charlie only rolled her eyes, Alastor and Lucifer always argued, it was an everyday thing now, they always argued about something and it almost always ended in a fight she had to break off.

Alastor scoffed for a moment looking towards the king, but he let it slide before continuing tickling a bit more and then released the little maid. Niffty ended in a giggly puddle sitting by his side.

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

The day continued without so much of a fuss except Lucifer and Alastor's bickering and Angel Dust flirting, before anyone could notice, it was almost night time.

"UFFFF!" Charlie sighed, leaving some papers aside and looking at her girlfriend "Today was surprisingly nice and quiet, there was no explosions or broken walls"

"Well that's true, everyone behaved today--"

BOOM! the whole place trembled a little, both girls looked at each other.

"We spoke too soon" Vaggie growled.

"Now what??" Charlie shouted.

Both went running towards the noise, encountering others who went to check as well, just to see Alastor sending his tentacles everywhere trying to hit or catch a white snake.

"What is going on here!?" exclaimed Charlie.

"Charlie my dear! what happens is that this snake devoured the shrimps i had for today's dinner, i can't make jambalaya anymore!" even if he was smiling, Alastor was pissed as hell, still trying to catch him.

"AWW come on busboy~! they were there and i had to eat them!" the little snake cackled, easily slipping out the tentacles grasp.

But suddenly a hand caught him by the tail and lifted him, Lucifer blinked and grew nervous when he saw a very angry princess of hell up close his face.

"Dad that was not nice, that was for everyone's dinner!" she said sternly.

"I'm pretty sure he already knew that my dear, he just wanted an excuse to mess with me" the red deer growled, his tentacles went away and walked towards the two.

"Wait then what are we going to eat for dinner?" asked Angel.

Charlie sighed, and took out some cash "Angel, Husk, Niffty and Vaggie please go buy some takeout for dinner" Charlie declared.

"Oh! to think we have to replace my jambalaya for takeout!" said a highly offended Alastor.

The designed group left, leaving the princess, the king and the radio host alone in the hotel.

"Weeeeell since it's already solved..." Lucifer started to say, about to slither away, just to have his daughter tighten her grip on his tail "ACK!"

"Oh no mister, you need a punishment alright, messing up with dinner like that?" said Charlie, and she felt a hand on her shoulder "huh?"

"Allow me my dear~" chuckled Alastor, i think i have the perfect punishment for your majesty.

Charlie was curious, and gave the snake to the red deer, Lucifer growled and tried to bite him but a strong grip on the base of his head and his tail rendered immobile.

"R-release me at once busboy!" he tried to command, just to be ignored.

"Charlie, your father seemed eager all day to get on my nerves to have a laugh at my expense, what about we help him?"

"What do you mean?"

"He was watching how i was playing with Niffty in the morning, and so much he wants to have a laugh? we can do the same to him" Alastor smirked.

Oh no, Lucifer gulped, he knew what he meant, and it was no secret for Charlie he was ticklish as hell, she had seen him in the receiving end before, by her mom, the deadly sins, even Razzle and Dazzle.

Charlie understood and brightened, smiling, this could actually be beneficial at the end! knowing how sad her father has been, maybe this was exactly what he needed to cheer up!

"What a great idea Alastor!" she exclaimed, much to Lucifer's dismay "Dad, you have behaved poorly today, so please change back to normal and face the consequences" she said in her best authoritarian voice.

Too bad the only thing she managed is to appear cute in front of his father and the radio demon.

"Like i would! be serious, do you think i would change back knowing you're going to tickle me?" the snake said.

"Daaaaaad!" Charlie protested.

"Ah such a shame, seems i'll have to force you to turn back my lord" Alastor said, dropping to sit on the carpet comfortably, still holding Lucifer.

Charlie blinked and followed, sitting beside him "How are you going to do it Alastor?"

"A snake is pretty much sensitive everywhere, though the scales make it a bit more difficult" commented the red deer.

"HAH! guess i win then" Lucifer smirks, sticking his tongue out at the two.

"HOWEVER,~! there's a niiiice little weak spot we can exploit, my dear" Alastor chuckled in amusement seeing the king's smirk drop "And is riiiiiiight..."

"B-busboy i swear to my father, don't you dare! i'm warning YYYAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Lucifer let out an uncharacteristically high-pitched squeal when he felt two fingers pinch repeatedly at the back of his neck. Ok, never in existence has ever tried to tickle him as a snake, so he wasn't at all prepared for the surprisingly strong ticklish sensations that resulted from the attack. Not to mention the deer demon's pointy claws were absolutely devastating and quick to deal the most agonizing session possible.

"A-ALASTOR!" the white snake cried out, his tail lashing out wildly without being able to get free. "HEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHA! ST-STOP THAHAHAHAHAT!"

"OH HOOOO~! So the king does know my name~! not busboy, nor Bambi, nor bellhop!" he chuckled, turning to look at the princess by his side "Seems his memory is working just fine my dear~"

Charlie giggled a bit, seeing her father in such predicament "I'm sorry dad, but you had this coming, you know there's consequences for bad actions"

"Well said my dear~" Alastor was smirking widely looking at the snake in his hands "Bad luck for you, i used to hunt and eat snakes while alive so i know a lot about them, now behave and turn back to your normal form, or i can stay here aaaaaaall day"

Oh no, Lucifer's eyes widened as he was still laughing and squirming, he couldn't stand even five minutes of being tickled like this, much less could take a whole day before being driven completely insane, he couldn't even concentrate to turn into a different animal. Better just turn back and get the punishment over with.

With a loud POOF of red smoke and glitter, the king of hell laid there across the red deer's lap, taking a breath and a break now that Alastor let him go, but that was his downfall. Alastor snapped his fingers, and Lucifer gasped when a tentacle came out and wrapped itself under his arms, preventing him from protecting his torso. The king looked at his daughter and the radio demon, smiling sheepishly when they smirked at him.

"N-now now, we can talk about this" the king giggled nervously, seeing Alastor giving him a sinister smile and Charlie moving and sitting on his knees facing his hooves, to prevent him from kicking.

"Ohhh no can do your majesty~! specially because we still haven't heard a single "sorry" from you!" the deer wriggled his claws in front of him.

Lucifer gulped, his pride too big to give up just yet, he then tries to get into his demonic form but it was useless, his wings couldn't spread because of the tentacle, and his horns and tail did nothing to help. He then yelped and started giggling when he felt a finger poking around his ribs. But even giggling he looked at the red demon with a challenging look.

"N-nehehehehehever!" he managed to say while giggling.

"Oh well, suit yourself sir, Charlie my dear your father is sooooo stubborn! what do you say if we help him come up with the right words for an apology~?"

"Sounds good to me Alastor" she said in a fake angry tone, making evident how amused she was for the whole ordeal.

"Splendid~!" he looks at the nervous king "Let's start with these cute ribs of your sir~"

Lucifer snickered and squirmed without being able to break free, refusing to keep giving that deer what he wanted, but damn it was HARD! those single pointy claws poking and prodding around his ribs, he started giggling almost inmediatly.

"B-busboy, stohohop!" he giggled. "I-I don't like being tihihihickled!"

"Perhaps I'll stop once you apologize for your behaviour~" the radio demon bargained.

"N-No way," Lucifer blurted out "it's gonna t-tahahake a lot more than a fehehew t-t-tickles to break mehehehe!"

"Very well, your choice sir~!"

Alastor then immediately dug his fingers through Lucifer's shirt into his ribs, causing him to snort and giggle loudly as his senses were overloaded for a split second but still refusing to laugh, his fist hitting a few times against the tentacle. Great day to use clothes that didn't protected him at all, huh?

"Being a stubborn wiggly snake, hmm~? Holding it down will only be worse for you my lord” Alastor chuckled, adoring seeing the king like that “Perhaps I should give you a little incentive?"

"S-shuhuhuhuhut up!" Lucifer managed to say between giggles, not knowing it was about to get worse.

Alastor leaned his face a bit closer to Lucifer, without warning him before hand, his claws went to scribble over the king's soft belly.

"Coochie coochie coo~” Alastor cooed at him.

That did it, in no time at all, he burst out laughing and thrashing, his belly being too sensitive to stand the deer demon's claws, trying desperately to reach his arms down to protect himself but the tentacle prevented him to do so.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! ST-STAHAHAHAP THAT! N-NOT THEHEHEHERE" he cackled, hearing his daughter giggle at his predicament "C-CHARLIE HELP MEHEHEHEHE!"

"No can-do dad, you just have to apologize" Charlie said, giggling softly.

"NEHEHEHEHEVEEEEER!" he was still acting stubborn, but what the hell, this was actually fun! to just laugh and let go, it felt good!

Alastor growled, smiling evilly "Charlie my dear, what do you say if we take it up a notch~?"

Charlie then gasped, giggly, knowing what he meant "Of course my good sir!"

Lucifer didn't even had time to ask what they were planning, but the moment he felt a devious claw plunge into his belly button and wiggle, and his hooves being held down while fingers started scritching up and down, he lost it.

"NOHOHOHOHOHOOO! OHOHOHOHOHO MY GAHAHAHAHAHAD, STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP! WAHA-AAAIIEEE- WAHAHAAAAA- AHAHAHAHA!!" the king cackled and screeched at the intense ticklish sensation, trying to fight with everything he had to free himself from his bonds, but it was no use, he quickly was getting low on stamina.

"Ohhhh hoho! seems like a found a magic button that makes you laugh like a maniac~!" Alastor chuckled, his finger wiggling mercilessly in Lucifer's navel, while his other hand was alternating between scribbling and pinching all over his belly.

Charlie then heard something else in between her father's shrill laughter, she looked back and almost squealed from what she saw: her father's tail was thumping against the carpet vigorously. So, despite his protests, he was really enjoying himself!

But even Lucifer had a limit, and as much fun it was. His hands slapped weakly against the tentacle as tears began swelling up on the corners of his tightly-shut eyes. It was when Alastor leaned down and blew a giant raspberry over his navel and then started nibbling and growling playfully all over his belly that he decided to surrender.

He gave a high pitched squeal, "AHAHAHAHAHA! PLEASE STAHAHAHAHAP! I'M SORRY! I'M SO SAHAHAHAHARRY! MERCY, PLEHEHEHEHEASE, PLEEEEEASE!"

"Hmm~" Alastor mused, pinching all over the soft and sensitive belly, he turns to see the princess "Do you think is enough apology dear~?"

Charlie giggled, stopping her attack and leaving her dad's poor hooves alone "Yes Alastor, cease fire, he's had enough~" she declared.

The radio demon complied, stopping himself and snapping his fingers, the tentacle ceasing from existence and leaving the king in the carpet, Lucifer was giggling softly, his hands trying to rub away the ghost of the tickles. His hair was messy, he was tired and a mess, but... he looked genuinely happy.

"There your majesty, was that so hard~?" Alastor chuckled.

"Sorry dad, but you had it coming~" Charlie said, smiling.

"Y-you two are evil" Lucifer managed to say between giggles and panting.

"Why thank you my good sir! that's a compliment for me~" the radio demon laughed.

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

Again, in the dead of the night, the princess was taking her nightly stroll, and curiously went to check on her father. He was already asleep, but Charlie still was careful to not disturb him as she checked on him... she saw the medicine bottle in the night stand, and took it... her smile and joy could barely be contained when she saw the five pills were still there, meaning her father didn't take any of them that night. And the king was asleep, with a happy smile on his face, looking so peaceful.

Charlie left the bottle, this time putting a blanket over her sleeping father and went out, shutting the door quietly behind her. She maybe couldn't bring her mother back, but she was going to make sure her father gets better, and not leave him alone again.

~Fin~

#sfw tickle community #sfw tickles #sfw tickling #fluff #sfw tickle fic #tickle fic #fluffy tickles #tickle teasing #tickle talk #hazbin hotel tickles #ticklish!lucifer #hazbin hotel tickle fic #maskpost #lee!lucifer #ler!charlie #ler!alastor

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stray-kaz · 1 year

Text

A Personal Experiment : a George Karim x f!reader oneshot

The Gist of This: The one where George knows more than he's letting on about how you feel about him.

This fic is 18 and up. You are responsible for your content intake. You have been forewarned. Characters in this are 18+.

George first noticed it when you were standing at the kitchen bench, effectively blocking him from the overhead cabinet and the glass he wanted. Instead of asking you to move, he just reached up over your head, your nose in the centre of his chest as he stretched upward, his body pressing yours back into the bench. And when he stepped away again, desired glass in hand, and glanced down at your face, he saw dilated pupils and a shade to your skin he had never seen before.

“Sorry, babe” he said, testing.

His quiet, husky voice sent a visible shiver down your spine and he tucked that information away for later. Then you mumbled something about being cold and dashed out of the room, George watching with raised eyebrows and a faint smirk.

“What was that about?” Lockwood asked, glancing over his shoulder as you brushed past him in the hall.

“She fancies me” George announced, pride in every angle.

Lockwood’s eyebrows shot up.

“She does? How can you tell?” he asked, surprised.

George patted him on the shoulder, still smiling.

“Physiology doesn’t lie” he answered. “I hardly touched her and she reacted.”

He sailed out of the kitchen, whistling, forgotten glass still in one hand.

The second time, you were barely awake, so he wasn’t sure it would have mattered who it was, but you arrived home from a case after midnight and collapsed on the couch beside him, immediately keeling over with your head on his lap. Lucy followed, eyeing you with interest.

“Go on, George” she whispered. “She doesn’t bite.”

George scowled at her and then pressed a hand onto your head, gently stroking your hair. When you nuzzled sleepily closer, he looked up at Lucy, scandalised. His knee started to bounce and he bit his bottom lip as he willed his body not to respond. Lucy looked back at him, trying not to laugh.

“I can help you take her to bed if you like?” she suggested.

George nodded frantically and Lucy bit back a grin. She bent and wrapped her arms around your legs and waited for George to secure your upper body before slowly backing towards the doorway. They carried you slowly and carefully up the stairs to the attic room you shared with Lucy, your head lolling against George’s shoulder. Your bed was messy, unmade, making it easy for them to lay you down on it and pull the covers up.

Lucy left quickly, not ready to sleep yet, but as George made to leave, you rolled to your side and snatched at his hand, untidily twining your fingers together with his. He stared down at his hand locked in yours, painted nails vivid against his skin.

“Georgie...” you sighed. “I want...”

But he didn’t get to find out what you wanted because you slipped away from him again. So he gently freed his fingers and tucked your arm under the covers so that you were warm, then he turned out the light and left you to sleep.

In the morning, you remembered nothing.

You had forgotten to buy new washing up gloves, so you were forced to suffer through washing the dishes in soapy water with bare hands. You grimaced as leftover food brushed over your skin, and then George waltzed into the kitchen and over to you.

“Didn’t remember gloves?” he queried, peeking over your shoulder.

“Nope” you muttered, instantly hyper aware of his closeness.

You could smell him, too, as he leaned into your back and hooked his chin onto your shoulder. Books and spice. You inhaled quietly in spite of yourself, but he heard, pressing his grin against your cheek as he kissed you there and the air in your throat stopped moving.

“Need some help?” he asked.

You gave a tiny nod and felt him plaster himself against your back, reach around and shove his hands into the water, quickly finding yours. Your hands stilled as he started to slide soapy water over your fingers, up and down to each knuckle and back up to the fingertip, swirling his fingertips around each pad. Your knees buckled and it was only George’s weight dragging you up against the sink keeping you upright.

Your hands shook under his ministrations, he brushed his lips against the edge of your ear and short circuited your brain.

“You all right there, babe?” he murmured, still playing with your fingers. “You’ve gone awfully quiet and you’ve stopped cleaning.”

He swore he heard you whimper softly, but before he could press his advantage, Lockwood strolled into the kitchen and sat down at the table.

“Lunch on its way, George?” he sang out, not at all noticing the tension in the room.

“Hmm” George replied noncommittally.

He released your hands, wiped his off on a tea towel and steadied you, palms smoothing over your hips and waist, before he stepped away to begin the lunch preparation.

And you stood trembling against the bench, head low as you struggled to take back the composure George had taken from you.

He caught you during a hunt. You had just lashed a Visitor to pieces with a length of chain and then lost your balance, tripping into him, your cheek colliding with his chest. When you straightened, he had one arm around you, his other hand gripping the torch. The glow illuminated your face just enough for him to see your eyes, dark with fear and adrenaline, widen even further. His gaze jumped to the pulse beating rapidly under your jaw and then to your lips as they parted slightly, your own eyes suddenly fixed on his mouth.

“You’re staring, babe” he told you, arching his eyebrows.

You returned to yourself, blood boiling, and rolled your eyes, giving him a brisk shove.

“In your dreams, Karim” you muttered.

His dark eyes glinted in the yellow torchlight.

“Or in yours” he shot back.

You had nothing to say to that, and he wondered if maybe he was right about that, too.

“You have got to stop teasing her” Lucy announced one morning as she sat down hard next to George.

“Why? Her responses are gorgeous” he replied absently, turning a page.

“She has started talking about you in her sleep” Lucy snapped.

That got his attention. He looked over the top of the book with wide eyes.

“She has? What has she been saying?”

“She mumbles about your hair and your eyes, your hands. She is besotted. Do something about it” Lucy told him, sighing heavily.

George looked down at his hands, at the semi permanent ink stains on the pads of his fingers from thousands of books and newspapers.

“My hands?” he murmured, then glanced back at the page he’d been reading. “Actually, that makes sense.”

Lucy ducked over to see the cover and her eyebrows rose sharply.

“That’s hers!” she accused. “You stole one of her books!”

George shrugged.

“Actually, I’ve stolen several” he admitted.

Lucy plucked the book out of his hands, ignoring the flat-abbed, muscle bound man on the cover and flipping through to a random page about halfway through. She read a few sentences and her eyes widened. George grinned at her.

“It’s quite something, isn’t it?” he said. “It’s always the quiet ones.”

Lucy snorted.

“You’re a quiet one” she reminded him.

His grin became devious.

“I know.”

He took the book back from her and closed it, sliding it underneath a couch cushion.

“What are you doing with her books anyway?”

He shrugged.

“Research, reconnaissance. I want to know what makes her tick.”

Lucy arched one eyebrow.

“And then what?” she asked him.

George mimicked an explosion with his hands.

“Tick, tick, boom...”

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you walked out of the shower and George was lounging against the wall, waiting for you. You frowned and tugged the top of the towel higher over your chest.

“Darn it, George!” you complained. “What is with you lately?”

His eyes dipped down behind his glasses to where some of your cleavage was still visible. When they rose back to lock on yours, your breath caught at the sight of his burning want. He was usually so collected and kept his feelings in check, but now he looked hungry, dark brown eyes deep black.

“I’ve been studying you” he said quietly. “Or, more correctly, your reactions to me. You talk about me in your sleep. You like me, don’t you?”

You just stared at him, heat crawling up your face and heart hammering.

“The whole time, you knew?” you managed to utter, eventually.

He shrugged lightly and took a step closer to you.

“Not the whole time, no” he admitted. “But I’m a fast learner.”

“How?” you asked, not sure if you could bear the answer.

“Physiology.”

“Your point?”

He smiled a little and your fingers itched with the desire to touch him.

“You respond to me in a million little ways” he explained. “Dilated pupils, flushed skin, respiratory increase, pulse increase. You look at my mouth a lot. I nicked some of your, ah, secret novels, to try and figure out what you like. They helped.”

Your face felt like it was on fire and you didn’t know whether to kiss him or slap him. While you were deliberating, George moved closer to you again, felt the warmth radiating from you, heat left over from your shower, and something more.

“Would you tell me you want me?” he asked softly. “Please say it.”

A soft, needy sound left you only seconds before the words did, suddenly obedient, and then George was on you, his fingers clutching at the sides of the towel, your hands trapped between you, still holding the top of the towel in place, his kiss gentle but insistent, just like the rest of him.

His hands travelled up your back, smearing droplets of water over your skin and pressing into your shoulder blades.

“Where are Lockwood and Lucy?” you gasped breathlessly, your nose bumping his.

“Out. Hunting a wraith. They’ll be gone ages. We’ve got time.”

“Time to do what?”

He trailed his fingertips along the edge of your towel and down your arm, to the hands wedged in between your chests.

“Whatever you want.”

You met his dark eyes with a shy look, read the naked desire and curiosity in his gaze. Slowly, taking a deep breath in, you loosened your grip on the towel until it fell to the floor, leaving you shivering and exposed. George’s eyes widened behind his glasses and he took a single step backwards so he could see you better, his hand still gripping tightly to one of yours, a tether from him to you.

His gaze swept from your face to your breasts, pausing as his breath quickened and his pulse thrummed, down your soft stomach, and dragged to the curls between your upper thighs. They clenched tightly together as he watched and then raised his eyes to yours once more.

“So pretty” he said quietly. “You have no idea...”

You closed your eyes and your lips trembled.

“Hey. Open your eyes, look at me?”

You opened them and he kissed you, taking you by surprise, eyes wide, but your eyelids soon melted shut and the tension left your shoulders, the rigid way you held yourself as George eased himself against you. He pressed his hips gently into yours and felt you shudder, felt your empty hand come up to lock in his hair. A surprise feeling twisted in his stomach and he moaned quietly. You pulled on purpose, a test, and felt your naked back hit the wall, a throaty growl vibrating against your mouth.

You breathed out harshly through your nose, lungs burning for air, but desperate to hold onto him. You untangled your other hand from his and fisted it in the front of his bright plaid shirt, felt his heart hammering. Then George broke the kiss, smiling contentedly when you chased his mouth, and lowered it to your neck, one hand stroking warmly down the line of your throat. You keened and arched into his palm, felt his fingers tighten and release, your eyes rolling.

“Who would have thought?” he whispered against your neck. “You hate being told what to do in daylight hours, but you really want to be dominated when it’s dark.”

You hummed wordlessly and your hips jumped when his hand settled on your stomach and lingered. You weren’t sure whether you wanted him to move it up or down, but instead, George moved his hand to the small of your back and pushed, sending you stumbling further into him, your sensitive breasts brushing the smooth fabric of the t-shirt he wore beneath the plaid. The light touch dragged a whimper out of you and you tightened the grip of both your fists.

“Careful, babe” George said softly in your ear. “You’re about to rip my shirt.”

You pulled back and stared up at him, fingers flexing.

“Then why don’t you take it off?” you demanded. “I want to feel you, too.”

He shook his head and pressed his lips to your forehead.

“No” he said firmly, making your knees weak. “Tonight I’m not taking anything off until you can’t take any more and you have to touch me or die. If you say yes, tonight is my experiment. I want to know what makes you scream with pleasure. Okay?”

Your mouth opened slightly as you gazed at him, eyes wide with shock and heat unspooling in your belly, making your thighs close tight on a sudden pulse of desire.

George stroked your cheek.

“All right, love?” he murmured. “Yes?”

You didn’t think, you just acted.

“Yes.”

George took your hand again and started to back up in the direction of his bedroom, devouring you with his eyes as you followed him without question. Part of you wanted to take it back, not being allowed to touch him, but a bigger part of you was more desperate to let him have his way until you were raw and begging, to find out if he could do that to you.

Walking into George’s room, you discovered that his bed was free of books and paper, and all his pens were scattered on his desk. The bed was made with fresh sheets and the covers were pulled right back to make room for you. You glanced at him and he nodded.

“Go ahead. Lie down.”

You settled down on your back, stretched out, all of a sudden self conscious. You started to cross your legs, but George caught the movement and put a hand on your calf, shifting it back over as he slowly shook his head.

“Don’t do that” he said softly. “Please.”

You nodded and sighed out quietly as George lay down on his side next to you, fully dressed including socks. He gazed down the length of you from a different angle and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from moaning out loud at the sight.

“So, how long have you liked me for?” he asked idly, the fingertips of one hand sliding slowly from your throat to the valley between your breasts; he gently grazed the underside of one with his knuckles and you gasped a little before replying.

“Since I started here” you admitted.

“A year? That’s a long time to go without telling me. I don’t bite, you know. Not unless you ask nicely.”

You laughed breathlessly and then whimpered as he thumbed a nipple, pinched it gently between thumb and forefinger. He watched your expressions shift as he did so, and your lower body shift restlessly on his bed.

His bed.

In spite of his evidence to the contrary, he still couldn’t quite believe that he had you all laid out for him, not a stitch on and longing for him. If it wasn’t for his phenomenal patience, he would be seriously worried about how long he could hold out for without knowing what it was like to have your hands on him.

“George?”

He came back to earth, and you, at the sound of his name, soft and pleading on your tongue.

“Yes?”

“Touch me. Please. You’ve been teasing me for weeks.”

“Where do you want me to touch you?”

You glanced away from his face, chewing on your lower lip.

“Anywhere.”

George tilted your head back towards him with two fingers under your chin.

“I know what it sounds like when you lie” he told you, his husky voice gone rough with need. “Where?”

He barely heard your whispered response over the blood roaring in his ears.

“Between my legs.”

He walked his fingers down your abdomen, swirling a soft circle around your belly button, before dipping lower, questing. Your legs opened on instinct and George let out a quiet huff of approval as he reached right where you wanted him. He brushed the bundle of nerves crying out to be touched, but it wasn’t where his attention was; instead, he ran his fingertips through the trace of slick already evident. Your hips bucked and you mewled, throwing one arm over your eyes. George peered up at you, eyes black and bottomless.

“Does that feel good?” he murmured, his voice a low thrum.

“Mmhm!”

He grinned, dipped his head down and pressed a bruising kiss just above your navel. As he pulled away, one finger flicked the taut nub and you squirmed, lifting your hips off the bed slightly. George’s eyes brightened and he repeated the motion, finding a blinding rhythm that had you alternately panting hard and muffling screams of pleasure in the arm you now had pressed over your open mouth.

And he was still fully clothed, which infuriated you no end. He let up a little and you looked down at him, your gaze travelling to the strain in his jeans. You tried to sit up and reach for him, but he gently slapped your hand away and shook his head.

“Quit that” he instructed. “We had a deal. If you’re struggling, just lie back and think of England.”

“I will be doing no such thing...oh, yes, Georgie” you groaned, as he dragged two fingers up through your heat and back to your clit.

He continued merciless treatment until you were writhing on his bed, fighting against the screams building in your throat. You were breathing heat, gasping for air that didn’t burn, almost ready to give in and beg for him to be inside you.

And then George leaned up on one elbow and pulled your arm away from your face, allowing him to see your agonised features and you to see his blown out pupils, his wrist shaking slightly from effort.

“Don’t hide from me” he said hoarsely. “Let it go, love. Let me hear you. There’s no one else here. It’s just me listening.”

You blinked at him, dazed and trembling, and he rubbed at you again, watching your face intently.

Oh, to hell with it.

You let go of the tension, as he had asked for, and screamed, whimpered and collapsed into his mattress, quivering.

George crawled over your body and kissed you fiercely, sliding his hand over your throat again, ever so gently. He knelt between your legs and a second later, looked down in surprise when he felt you rubbing up against him, struggling for more friction now he’d left you to cool down. He returned to your searching mouth, kissing you open mouthed and glorious. You wriggled and moaned under him, wishing he would take some of his damn clothes off.

He shifted around slightly, his lips nudging yours as he found a new position, and you were quick to figure out why as one finger slid into you, and you moaned into his mouth, rutting down onto the sweet intrusion.

“Wow” George mumbled, quick kissing the corner of your mouth. “You’re really wet, babe.”

You groaned at him in response.

“Feels...good...” you managed to pant.

“How about this?” George asked, curious, as he added a second finger. “Does this feel good, too?”

You dug your hands into his hair and licked into his mouth, dragged your teeth over his bottom lip. He moaned back and sped up the thrust of his fingers, his thumb bullying your clit all over again, until you almost blacked out and fell away from his mouth, chest heaving for air.

When you finally managed to open your eyes, you saw George staring at you with a wide grin.

“What?” you asked blearily.

“I’ve made you come twice. Wanna make it three times?” he asked.

“Huh?” you muttered, and then realised with some shock where he was headed. “Georgie?”

“Yes?”

He wrapped his fingers around your ankles and carefully pushed your legs up and back before settling at the foot of the bed in front of you.

“I’ve never had...this done before” you told him, anxiety rising.

He nodded slowly, then nipped a kiss on the skin of your inner thigh.

“Then let me be first?” he asked.

And only.

You blew out a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding, and nodded.

“Okay.”

You smiled when he took off his glasses and set them aside, but the smile was wiped when he dragged the flat of his tongue over your entrance and up to your clit. You closed your eyes as he took his time working out what made you feel good and what bordered on too much. He used his lips and tongue to drive you sky high, eventually bringing his fingers back and sucking gently, then harder, on your clit.

You realised after a few seconds of delirious pleasure that the bed was moving and you opened your eyes to see George grinding into the mattress as you struggled to keep your own hips still, occasionally failing and letting them rise to his face.

He looked up at you from between your legs then, and the picture of him alone was almost enough to send you off the deep end again. His black curls were mussed and dishevelled from your hands dragging through them earlier, his eyes were wide and dark, slightly unfocused like he was drunk, and his mouth was slick with mixed saliva and your arousal.

George blinked at you, taking in your kiss swollen lips, midnight eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Georgie?” you whimpered, stretching out your hands toward him.

He put his glasses back on and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve, waiting.

“Please” you said, and he linked his fingers with yours, squeezing gently. “If you don’t let me touch you right now, I will die of disappointment.”

He bit his lip and stood up, letting go of your hand to shrug out of his plaid and let it drop. Your gaze greedily traced over the lean muscles in his arms, hidden under light brown skin you could kiss for days. Then, as he lifted his t-shirt to expose a flat stomach and a fine trail of dark hair that dipped into his jeans, you sat up and surged forward, catching him by surprise as you pressed a kiss above his belly button, what he had recently done to you. His stomach muscles tightened and then relaxed again and he threw the t-shirt onto the carpet.

George didn’t have time to ask if you liked what you saw before you had pulled him down on the bed and were kissing every inch of his smooth skin you could find. He moaned and gasped as your tongue emerged to taste him, your teeth soon after as you sucked a bruise onto his hip. And he groaned loudly when you straddled him and leaned down to kiss him properly again, your breasts pressing against his chest.

You stopped kissing him after a few minutes and sat back, framing his face with your hands.

“George” you said, a little out of breath. “I have had your fingers and I have had your tongue. I want what’s left. I need it.”

To emphasise your point, you rocked down onto him and felt him push back involuntarily. Something hungry flashed in his eyes and a thrill bolted through you.

“Well, you had better get off me then.”

You scrambled off him and flopped on your back, legs spread wide. He watched you watching him toe off his socks and then shove his jeans down, revealing bright orange and white plaid boxers just begging to be removed. You saw a faint blush rouge his cheeks as he pushed them down his legs and kicked them away. You bit your lip at the sight of him and reached up, pulling at his hands until he climbed back onto his bed and settled in the cradle of your body, pressing silky and hot against your warmth. He rocked his hips a little and you mewled a little as just the blunt tip of him pushed into you. You glimpsed the sudden worry in his eyes and pushed your hands back into his hair, tugging slightly.

“I’m on the pill” you said softly. “Have been since I was sixteen. You have nothing to worry about.”

Relief flooded his features and he pushed all the way in, desperate moans pulled from behind his clenched teeth as you grabbed at his shoulders, his forearms, anything to hold him, keep him close.

“Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are like this?” George panted. “You’re blushing and needy and...oh, my good girl...I can feel you pulling me in.”

You kissed him then, messy and hot, lifting your hips off the bed to meet him, thrust for thrust.

You had fallen hard in love with him months ago, but tonight’s “experiment” had solidified it for you: you were never going anywhere without George Casper Karim.

He reached down to hook your legs around his waist and tilted your pelvis up towards his, hitting a place inside you never before touched.

“George, don’t stop. Please, don’t you dare stop!”

His darkened eyes were wild behind his glasses, his strong hands gripping your thighs and holding them apart for him.

“That feel good, yeah?” he gasped out, sweat dripping off the ends of his curly hair.

You nodded vigourously and dragged him down to your mouth again.

All the build up, the weeks of teasing, this evening’s sultry torture had led to this, and he was wild, moaning and panting above you, his body gilded by the lamplight.

You understood the moment he began to come undone. He kissed you with a bruising mouth, each press of his lips and teeth in time with his movement inside you. And then you felt him shudder and shake, felt his jaw go slack as he pressed his cheek to yours. His hips slammed into you a few more times and then he went still, releasing your thighs as he spilled inside you.

You urged George down onto you, cradling him with your body and carding your fingers through his dark, damp hair.

After a long while, he raised his head to shyly meet your eyes.

“Was that all right?” he asked quietly.

You kissed him, lingering to feel the touch of his mouth.

“George Casper Karim, I will beg for you every day of my life if that is what I receive in return.”

A blush painted his skin again and you kissed his nose.

He was quiet for a while, his face pressed in the crook of your shoulder. Then he suddenly drew back and looked down at you, a sober expression in his eyes.

“Have you ever been in love?” he asked.

You frowned slightly.

“That is an odd question to ask while you’re still buried inside me, George.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

He eased out and lay down beside you, drawing an obscure pattern on the soft skin of your stomach.

“Well?” he prompted quietly.

You shuffled onto your side and cuddled into him, throwing one leg over his hip.

“I have” you murmured, speaking to his collarbone. “My boyfriend. He died on a case, a few months before I came here.”

George wrapped his arms around you and trailed his fingers up and down your spine.

“I’m sorry” he mumbled.

“But if it helps, I’m still falling in love with you, Georgie. I have been since I arrived. You’re all I want now, I promise” you said honestly.

He tipped your chin up and kissed you soundly.

“I’m falling in love with you, too” he whispered against your lips.

You smiled, and fell.

#george karim x reader #george karim #lockwood and co fics #lockwood and co #liss writes #george karim x female reader

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eveandtheturtles · 1 year

Text

Dating Advice

Ship: Leo X Reader

A/N: Leo can't catch a break it seems lol I am going to continue bully him for a lil bit more. With the help of his fam ;)

Tagging: @madammuffins @turtle-babe83 @thelaundrybitch

Anyone else want in let me know!

Recently Leo has been a bit antsy. A bit more... jumpy? But only in the presence of one person.

April noted his behaviour as you left the lair and immediately pulled him aside.

"Okay, spill." She sat him down in the kitchen and gave him her best 'big sis time' look.

"I- don't know what you mean," he said slowly, clearing his throat and looking away. "Now if you excuse me-" he started getting up.

"Sit," she ordered and he sat back down. "Come on Leo," she softened her tone. "I want to help."

He sighed heavily and tapped his finger over the table. "Fine," he sighed, finally giving in. "It's- well,... How do you ask somebody out? Asking for a friend."

April smiled and was about to answer when as if summoned Mikey popped up behind them.

"Who is asking who out?" He asked.

"No one!" Leo tried to stop the train from crashing but too late.

"I think Leo likes your new friend a little more than 'just friends'," April informed him.

"That's nothing new." Suddenly Donnie spoke up from the coffee spot. He had crawled out of his science cave to inject more caffeine in his blood stream. "You aren't that hard to read Leo," he added seeing the shocked face of his brother.

"Can we stop with the bullying?" The blue masked turtled sighed.

"Who are we bullying?" Raph asked as he emerged freshly post work out with a towel around his neck.

"Leo." All three replied.

The terrapin in question sighed again leaning his head down and rubbing a spot on his forehead. He could feel the headache coming.

"Oh, really?" Raph grinned. "What about?"

"He wants to ask Sweetness out," Mikey informed him.

"I never said I want to! It's for a friend!" Leo protested.

"Really? What is his name?" April asked with a wide grin.

Leo opened and closed his mouth. He then made an undignified noise and slid lower in his chair.

"That's what I thought," she said smugly.

"Bro, you could like make a song for her, chicks are into this kinda thing, right?" Mikey looked at April.

She made an 'eh' face. "Depends."

"Or a poem." Raph placed one hand on Leo's shoulder. "I got one for you bro."

"Don't." Leo glared at him.

"Roses are read, violets are blue." Raph ignored him and continued. "Guess what, my bed has place for two."

"Good one!" Mikey snickered. "How about - twinkle, twinkle little star, we can do it in the car."

The two hollered with laughter, even April had to bite her lips not to join them. Leo was suffering.

"Mikey, if you get anywhere near the turtle tank with that intent I will cut you off the WiFi for life and set your hover board on fire," Donnie spoke up.

"Yes, sir!" Mikey immediately sobered up. Donnie threats were no laughing matter.

"Thank you!" Leo called out, hoping the torment was over. He was wrong.

"That being said -," Donnie took a sip of his coffee and cleared his throat.

"Oh, no." Leo sunk further down.

"Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream," purple terrapin sang. "Merrily, merrily, I can make you scream."

"Oh, my god," Leo groaned. "You are my family, but you are all terrible, you dicks."

"Eh, you love us," April patted his hand.

"Hey guys," you re-entered the lair. "I forgot my bag." You took the scene in and frowned. "Is something wrong?"

Suddenly all the eyes were on Leo and he just wanted to disappear.

"Nope," he jumped out of the chair. "Everything is peachy! Let me walk you home." He rushed to your side and threw a death glare at his snickering family.

You were very confused as Leo escorted you out.

"What was that all about?" You asked. "It looked like you guys were having an intervention," you joked.

"It was nothing, they just thought they were being funny," he huffed.

"Were they giving you shit because you haven't asked me out yet?" You smirked, giving him a side eye.

Leo felt like a scratch record. "What?" He blinked at you, stopping abruptly.

"You aren't that hard to read Leo." You took his hand. "Also I was listening to the whole thing for quite a while. The sewers do carry sounds well."

His heart was about to jump out of his chest. "And um, do you, would you mind if I did?"

"Nope, so come on, shoot your shot." You nudged him gently.

"Alright," he took a deep breath in. Here it goes. He will not mess it up. "Do you take out game?"

Fuck.

"I mean - Will you check me out? No!" He pinched the bridge oh his snout.

You tried so hard not to laugh.

"I can do this," he said probably more to himself than you. "Will you. Go with me. To the Knicks game this Saturday?"

You giggled and stood up on your tip toes giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Yes, with pleasure."

"Great!!" He smiled brightly. "I can pick you up at 6?"

"Sounds perfect. See you then." You gave his hand a squeeze and exited the sewers. A smile never leaving your face.

Once you were gone he fist pumped, excited. You said yes! That was such a relief! He felt so good he was going to clean the dojo!

Figuring out how to prevent his brothers from going to the game was future Leo problem.

#leonardo x reader #eve scribbles #leo x reader #tmnt bayverse #bayverse turtles #bayverse leonardo #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2014 #tmnt

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 1 year

Text

Spawn's Defeat | Yandere Father Franken Stein

Sitting atop the roof of the DWMA never got old. The wind whispered the town's secrets as the sun rose with a stiff smile. It just felt right to be there. You doubted anyone would understand if you told them. They had to be there to feel the magic of being at rest and seeing the sunrise after a night of battles.

You’d hold their hand, as they stumbled on the misshapen peak and have to assure them as they shakily sat. You’d continue to hold their hand as they let their jaw drop and a breathy ‘whoa’ escape their mouth. Even better they’d shed a tear and lean against you as you watched the sunrise. It’d be then that’d you’d stand lending a hand as they stood, more sure of themselves, reentering through the window you came. Bonded by the beauty you shared on the roof of the DWMA.

Click!

A deep breath in.

A breath out.

“Are you done?”

The familiar scent of smoke. And the gravelly uninterested voice of Franken Stein. A genius meister so masterful he can weaponize his soul. The DWMA’s resident doctor and teacher. And most regrettably your father.

“What’s it matter to you?”

An intake of smoke. You can sense the way he shifts the stick in his mouth, letting it hang on the side to impede his speech.

“Aren’t you my spawn? Aren’t you supposed to do whatever I say?”

You scoffed, “Is your screw loose? That doesn’t sound like any reality I know.”

You kept your gaze on the sun even as you registered the crouching heat on your back. The sound of the screw cranking rang closely in your ear; his smoke-stench breath heated the shell of your ear.

“Nope. But maybe yours is.”

At a speed all too familiar to you he reached for your own, only to clutch at the air as you jumped to an adjacent cone of the roof. Hanging with expert ease as he stood straight, retreating his hands to his pockets.

“Yours needs to be winded. I’d rather do it now.”

He spoke at a moderate tone but the annoyance shone like the glass of his eye-wear. You looked down spying on the early students coming in you prepared yourself to somersault down.

Without a glance at him you spoke candidly,” I’ll have a friend do it.”

Stein watched, taking a tepid drag of his cigarette as he watched his creation merge with the uninteresting student body.

_______________________________________________

The sun was nearly setting, lighting the nurse's room in an orange hue. Dramatically lighting the patient and her guests who looked down at her with various expressions.

‘Ugh! Patty, you couldn’t have sprained both your ankles!? At the very least make your injury symmetrical for us!?”

“Kid! If you’re not going to be supportive then get the heck out of here!”

“Y-yeah! Y-you didn’t even bring a gift! You’re so cruel.”

Death the Kid upturned his nose letting one eye peer at the tearful pout of Patty. Liz glared at him with crossed arms, scoffing as she scanned the room.

“Speaking of cruel where’s that screw-guy? We’ve been waiting here for a while now!”

Death the Kid was the first to turn, recognizing the rising silhouette behind the adjacent curtain. Liz turned in to look in the same direction letting her eyebrow raise as you pulled back the curtain.

“(Y-y/n)? W-wh–” Kid started, cut off by Liz,”(Y/n)? What are you doing here? You playing doctor today?”

You chuckled,” No no not today. Last I checked he went out to talk to Lord Death about something, said whoever ended up coming in would have to suffer by themselves for a bit.”

“Noooo!!!”

Patty wailed. Liz groaned rubbing a hand over her forehead before turning to the desk and the nearby medical supplies.

“Fine, I’ll do it myself.”

“What!? But you’re barely literate in biology! What makes you think you can do that?!”

Kid protested as Liz read and collected what she wanted in a box. She carried it to the playfully fainted Patty collecting the gauze and ointment from her collection.

“Because I’ve done it before. Now move if you're not going to help.”

Kid scoffed folding the cuffs of his suit back. With a confident smile, he stepped towards Patty making her cower at the sheer determination in his eyes.

“Ha! As if! I will be helping to evenly spread the ointment and perfectly wrap the bandages! So that you’ll have perfect symmetry!”

“No! No! (Y/n) get him out of her or Patty won’t be the only one to wrap up!”

You giggled. Stepping in front of Kid to lightly grab the same three tips of his fingers, pulling him in the direction of the door.

“Come on Kid. Let’s step out for a bit.”

“W-w-we c-c-c-an’t knowing Patty s-she’ll j-just mess t-this up!”

Despite his vocal protests, he walked along with you letting you kick the door open to the empty hallway. When you stopped walking he couldn’t help but stare at your smiling face. Jumping with shock as he threw his hands up in the air, realizing you were no longer guiding him out of the room. He stiffly brought his hands to his sides, turning his head away as if to ease the heat spreading across his face.

“Kid?”

He jumped again, turning to you at lightning speeds.

“Y-yes!”

You tilted your head and puckered your lips, purposefully fighting the smirk on your lips as you fiddled with the collar of your uniform.

“I-I need your help. My windup key…it needs to be turned.”

The sentence brought his entire face to a red flush, turning away to dab at the dribble of blood that spilled from his nose. He turned back to you coughing as though he wasn’t the least bit flustered as he beckoned you forward.

He closed his eyes preparing himself for the familiar and vulnerable sight of your windup key near your lower back. Only to open his eyes to see you, not turned around and instead unbuttoning your uniform's top. He flailed for a moment, freezing as you revealed the miniature key-crank in the valley of your chest. He reminded himself to breathe as he turned away bashfully letting his eyes trail to your own, which were looking coy and expectant.

“Y-you moved it…”

“I did.”

Your tone told him this was planned. That didn’t stop the blush that sat comfortably on his face as he turned it to the right. Winding it up as he had done so many times before, respecting the symmetrical horizontal placement that you had instructed him to. He let his hands linger registering the warmth of your body traveling through the metal to him.

“(Y/n) I-”

The door slammed open to Patty stomping out of the nurse’s office in a tangle of gauze. Liz seemed to follow struggling to follow because of the robotic gadget clinging to her leg.

“Wait! Pattie! Just ‘cuz the medicine is working does not mean you're healed! Hey!?”

You and Kid both just looked at the duo running down the hallway in absolute shock. Kid cursed under his breath turning to follow the two, abruptly stopping his pursuit to turn back to you. His mouth opened and closed, floundering to say something to your wide-eyed self. Before giving up, hanging his head for a bit before turning to run.

“I-I-I’LL TEXT YOU LATER! PATTY! LIZ!”

With that he shot off, leaving you in his nonexistent cloud of dust as he gave chase to his weapon partners. You let the creeping smile on your face fall as you turned to the opposite end of the hallway. Specifically glaring at the shadows of the unlit hallway as you clutched the opened ends of your uniform.

“How long did you plan to sit there and watch?”

You sneered as the gray-haired man revealed himself turning his screw. He ignored you dryly snickering.

“Death’s kid? Really?”

You scowled at him, hating the way you’re cheeks still heat up at such an obvious tease. You turned to walk away holding your head up high as you tried to rebutton your uniform. Much to your chagrin, he followed keeping a distance away from you as you went.

“Whatever! Why don’t you just go back to doing your job?!”

“But I am. It’d just be so much easier if the patient was actually willing to take my help over a kid’s.”

You didn’t respond only speeding up, failing to lose him as he only did the same. This continued until you began just running at a full sprint still unable to lose him.

“Will you stop that!? You’re being a creep!”

“Am I? It wouldn’t be all that creepy if you stopped running.”

“No! Stop it!”

Spurred by the adrenaline of the chase you found yourself converting your casual sprint to the soul-powered running you’d do during battles. Darting at insane speeds out of the DWMA, sending any remaining students reeling through the effects of the intense air pressure.

__________________________________________________________

As far as you were concerned the chase was still on and while you weren’t tired in the slightest, something else was slowing you down. Nonetheless, you hopped from rooftop to rooftop casually patrolling the town as well as evading the one chasing you. As luck would have it you did come across a foul soul already on its way to becoming a major threat. Directing your attention to attacking the mutated human, you launched yourself from the building. Using the momentum of your running and subsequent jumping you practically crushed the monster on impact. Splashing the cobblestone in a spurt of crimson blood leaves the floating red soul for you to collect.

Without a second thought, you let yourself land collecting the naughty soul as you squeeze it in your hand. Usually, you would have continued forward, returning to the DWMA, eating it, or giving Death a call but today was different. Your head was foggy and your cheeks tickled. So instead of doing what you would have usually done, you brought the wisp up to your cheek giggling nonsensically at the feeling of it. Completely unaware of the counterpart launching from the shadows to kick you square in the chest. No doubt bending the metal that was haphazardly sticking out there.

Snap!

“O-oh no…”

You drunkenly mused, letting your knees slowly descend to the bloodied ground. Curling against the pavement you began you let your eyes begin to close for a nap. Your newfound opponent would look curious before brandishing their weapon to attack completely unaware of the force being brought behind them.

“‘Oh no’ is right.”

Before it could register they were enveloped in electrifying pain, not only abusing the nerves of their body but its soul as well. And they could barely register the man with a screw in his head twisting it with a sick smile.

“Now usually I’d end you quickly but you’ve made a grand mistake and I’m not bored just yet.”

_________________________________________________________

“Can’t believe you’d be so idiotic to risk your life for something as stupid as this.”

“Don’t act like you know what I’m going through! It's deeper than just that!”

“Hush. Patients don’t talk during open heart surgery.”

“Hmph.”

He watched you roll your eyes and pout as you let him work. With careful precision, he rewelded the removed key notches to his decorative metal piece. Inspecting the key for any incongruencies he let it hang in front of his sight, conveniently framing you in its design. He often wondered if he regretted implementing such a system on you. Disrupting your perfectly functional body with an inbuilt harness to nurture your ever-growing soul. But he knew well and good he felt no remorse for doing so; after all, it was his way of claiming you. While some may be satisfied with pure DNA, he figured he needed something more. Something he knew you’d need help with. His help with.

Even if you denied it with all your might and abused it to lure unsuspecting weirdos, ultimately Stein had the key to your heart. More accurately your energy but he wasn’t one to be perfect.

“Are you done? I have things to do.”

He huffed sticking the key in its slot and turning it to the right. He continued winding it up with ease before shooting a spiteful gaze at the kid looking studiously through the window of his office. With a twitch in his eye, he turns the key abruptly to the left and officially presses it into you watching as it receded into your body; leaving only the filled lock on your chest.

You sat up buttoning your shirt and grabbing your blazer on your way to walk out.

“Thank you. Maybe next time don’t build with such faulty equipment.”

“Oh? Maybe next time don’t let random boys wind up your key. ”

“He’s not a random boy!”

“A random kid, who didn’t properly wind it up.”

“Whatever.”

You dismissed him ducking out of the room to wrap yourself around the arm of said Kid. The adoring pair of golden orbs flicking to him in distaste, as you both passed by the window, only hardened the meister’s resolve.

“It’d be interesting…to defeat the spawn of Death. Right?”

#yandere soul eater #Yandere Soul Eater #yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere harem #yandere platonic #yandere stein #yandere father stein #yandere soul eater stein #death the kid x reader #yandere soul eater father stein #yandere franken stein

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slocumjoe · 1 year

Text

how you can tell if the companions really love someone (platonically or romantically)

Cait; Does she touch and let herself be touched casually? Given her history, it's a cold day in hell if she allows anyone to get even close enough to touch her. Arms length and then some, and all that. But if Cait trusts someone, cares about them, knows they care about her...it's not likely to be noticed if you're not incredibly perceptive, but you'll find Cait staying closer to the person. She'll poke them, bump them with her hand to get their attention. Ruffle their hair, lean on them like a shelf if they're shorter/sitting down. And she won't jump or cuss or panic if they do the same to her. It's a very small thing, but to Cait, it's everything.

Codsworth; complains. He's a butler bot. It's against conduct, his programming, the nature of his existence, to so much as huff. And Codsworth, himself, just doesn't want to make people feel like they're burdening him, that's not it at all. It's just...look at his life. Look at his flower beds. Look at the people around him. He's kind of a nervous wreck. Codsworth takes care of as much as he can, and he enjoys doing so, but good god. Sometimes you just need to be a little bit bitchy and make horrible jokes to someone in private. Someone he can trust to both keep it in confidence and tell him if he's being unworthy or if he's totally correct...that's someone Codsworth cherishes.

Curie; loves most everyone, really. She doesn't have a hateful, angry bone in her body. But if Curie really, really cares about someone...similar to Codsworth, she vents. She vents about her time in the Vault, seeing the world for the first time, about seeing the world in a human form. She vents about her patients, their difficulties or her failures to keep them alive. To Curie, negative emotions are physically painful in a way she is not equipped to handle. She's a Ms. Nanny, up there. She's not supposed to have a heart that can ache. Letting herself experience suffering in someone's presence is the same as letting them root around her engine or jets or her optical stalks; she's trusting them with her wellbeing. Curie is a doctor, a scientist. In either body, she feels she's best equipped to perform maintenance on herself, as she did in the Vault. Being trusted with that is nothing to sneeze at.

Danse; It's like he's a completely different person. This will never be seen in public, only the people he's really close with will see it. The soldier's demeanor drops, and Danse relaxes. It's a visible change. Eyes soften, the semi-scowl melts away, his shoulders and jaw loosen. He talks more about less important things. He'll even ramble about something if he's well-informed and passionate about it. He makes more jokes, though they're so dry you might not notice. Similarly to Cait, he's also open to physical affection. He's less likely to initiate, but if you're close enough to him, you can use him as furniture or a personal teddy bear. If especially close, he'll even return it, instead of simply letting you do as you please with no input. Expect the bear-est of hugs.

Deacon; will not lie to them about anything. Not even if it was justifiable, like if there's a surprise party or something. He'll dodge the question for that, but he is not going to lie. It's like pulling teeth, he's gotten so used to it, but he absolutely refuses. Lying in their presence? On the table. To them? Nope. He cannot stand it anymore. He won't even dress up and disguise himself around them (provided they're not working). If you get Deacon's trust, you get...whoever is under Deacon. It's kind of like cleaning out a dusty old attic; you don't know what you'll find, and he doesn't either, but y'know what, maybe it's time to figure it out. Deacon wants to be cared for as his authentic self, not a mask. He'll go digging for that, for someone who deserves to know who it is they're actually palling around with.

Gage; is a stubborn, surly bastard who will take orders, but only under the thinnest presumpation of subordination. He'll do as asked by his boss, and he'll pretend he's happy to do it, if he has to. But...there's a big difference between an order, and a request. "Go tell Nisha to keep her freaks out of my fuckin' house" is different from "Hey, can you help me with this?". So...if you can get Gage to do something he doesn't want to do, or something that doesn't come naturally to him...you've got him wrapped around your finger. Gage will give a shit if you give a shit. He might even refrain from bitching. Thing is, Gage is a man of action. If you tell him "this action matters"...he's gotcha. This kind of loyalty is one of a kind, especially from Gage. Maybe you should try the lottery, next.

Hancock; cuts back the chems by a large margin. Hancock gets high to numb himself, to not think about the shit he did or didn't do in his past. He gets high to feel like the life of any party instead of being lonely in a room full of people. He gets high because he isn't sure what else he can do to not feel the way he does, most of the time. But...he gets himself a friend? Gets someone who gets him? Gets someone who he admires so fucking much, who admires him, thinks he's worth a lot more than he does, and he trusts their judgement on everything else? Hancock still indulges in a jet every now and then, maybe some mentats with a wordy book. But he doesn't live off the things. He doesn't feel like he needs to. He's got someone to ground him and keep him himself, and set him straight. And they have fun together, blowing shit up. It's less of Hancock doing something for them, and more Hancock shedding his more self-destructive habits in the face of a stronger support system.

MacCready; is a chronic gift giver. Food, ammo, trinkets, books, weapons and mods, crafting supplies, clothes, enamel pins, jewelry, jewels, drinks, blankets, pillows; he's like a puppy, a magpie, a crow, some creature bring you anything he thinks you might like or need. MacCready is a guy who's never had a lot. It's made him a little greedy, a little selfish, a little too willing to do whatever he can to get a little more. It also means that if he shares, goes out of his way to find something for you, gives up something he could keep for himself...MacCready gives nothing up easily. So when he hands you a candy bar, or lets you have the nicer blanket at camp, or shares from his water canteen, you should feel real special.

Nick; this might seem odd, but if Nick lends someone a book, that person is the apple of his eye. Nick Valentine hoards books like a dragon hoards gold. It's the one consistently irrational part of him, the one consistently prickly part. Books are an endangered species to him. His personal library might not see much use, as he's too busy, but he cares for them like a monk tends a shrine. Anyone who asks to read one, and gets a yeah, go ahead, knock yourself out, only gets that privilege after a long time of proving themselves to be trustworthy. Nick fears ripped pages, cracked spines, stains. He just doesn't trust most people of the Commonwealth to take care of valuable art, the last shards of a dead culture. And those books have a lot of meaning to him, things OG Nick read and current Nick thinks he likes on his own. Sharing that is a way for him to share himself, his history. Both Nick's and OG Nick's.

Piper; isn't, how shall we say, great with criticism. She's usually right, is the thing. Usually the one to perk up and point out the obvious issue. Piper is self-assured, intelligent, and stubborn. She does not take a 'you're wrong'. Not "she doesn't take it well" or "she takes it too hard". She does not take it. Unless the person challenging her is someone she A: cares about enough to want to hear out, regardless, B: respects enough to put their ideas over what she believes to be hard truths, or C: trusts enough to think that if they're seeing something in a certain way, then that thing is that way, and Piper has it all wrong. Whatever way you slice it, if someone can confront the indomitable Piper Wright and not walk away feeling verbally skinned, that person must be near and dear to her.

Preston; is close with someone if he can sleep around them. He used to be okay with sleeping in a room with a bunch of other people, he had to be, being a soldier in a barrack, a camp, et cetera. Then Quincy fucked that skill right up the ass. Now, Preston is too aware of others' breathing, their joints clicking. Too nervous about how much sound he makes just by existing. Maybe it's hypervigilance from the few rests they got, running from Quincy. Maybe it's just a sign of broken trust. Either way, Preston needs to be close with someone before he can get any shuteye around them. And Preston might fight it, but he's a depression napper. Sometimes you just need one. If Preston willingly and easily falls asleep in someone's presence, that person is the human equivalent of a nightlight to him. Which, given how sleep-deprived he normally is, is worth their weight in gold.

X6-88; Oh, X6-88. You're such a prickly bastard. You know X6-88 loves someone when he's disappointed in them. The thing about disappointment, is that is can only some with an expectation. Disappointment is having a hope, an ideal, and seeing it sputter or fail. You can't be disappointed if there was nothing for you to be disappointed by. When an asshole does something shitty, you aren't surprised. When someone you think highly of does, you are, and that's disappointment. For X6, he hates pretty much everyone. He has no hopes, no expectations, no delusion that anyone is worth his time. And the sad thing is, you'll never know X6-88 cares until you have a hiccup, until you get judgement. And if you don't know this, you won't see a disappointed friend. You'll see normal X6-88, always acidic and with a cold barb just behind his teeth.

#fallout 4 #fo4 #paladin danse #preston garvey #nick valentine #piper wright #x6-88 #robert joseph maccready #companions react #porter gage #Codsworth

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iceheap · 6 months

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@panicataphmausinsanity okay so Zane HC's LETS GOOOOOOOO

Before we start trigger warning for like, child abuse and torture and shit. Seriously this gets dark. Zane redemption must come at a price >:D

So. Something interesting to me in regards to Zane is how in MCD, He's like, this evil, terrible human being, but in Mystreet, he's like, a semi functional human being who can be a NOT bad person and NOT do bad things. And so I got to thinking.

I don't think Zane was born a bad person.

Personally, I kind of hate the way Jess wrote Zane. Like, yes, evil for the sake of evil is great and all, but like. In season one and two, Zane was this overarching antagonist who was always one step ahead of the cast and plotting and having a good time being a paice of shit.

And then season 3 comes around and now he's a shadow knight, on the run, has PTSD...

Look, I'm not knocking the guy for having PTSD. I'm just saying that the way it's portrayed kind of makes him seem like a whimpery coward. AGAIN, NOT KNOCKING PTSD!!

I think the position that Zane found himself in season 3 was a PERFECT set up for a redemption arc and it makes me SO MAD that it didn't happen.

So I guess I have to do it myself apparently -_-

I've been thinking a lot about Zane. I don't want him to stop being evil. Not right away. So we keep what happened in the first two seasons the same. He's a cackling maniac that has killed a shit ton of people and is on his father's payroll.

And then he dies.

(skill issue lol)

Anyway, Zane is dead. But he's also Zane, so of course he weasels his way out of being dead. And then he gets tortured and is subjected to the same suffering he condemned so many others to yada yada yada PTSD bleh.

Everything seems to be the same so far.

But then he breaks out if the nether. Still, we're on track, right?

He gets captured, he gets expedited to Phoenix Drop, he gets interrogated, it's all the same.

But here we find a canon divergence. Instead of being absolute dumbasses, they don't bring him into the nether. Let's scrap that plot point entirely.

Instead, we're going to let Zane bake in prison for a while!

Here are the main issues that make Zane irredeemable.

1. He's killed like, a shit ton of people, for funsies ig

2. He killed Vylad.

3. He destroyed Aaron's village.

Let's keep those things in mind.

So he's in prison. While in prison, Garroth starts to visit him (along with Travis but shhhh we'll get to him another day) and just. You know. Be angry.

Garroth has seen Zane as a spoiled brat his entire life. He's always been their father's favorite. He's always had everything handed to him on a silver platter. He's always been willing to do whatever it takes for power. He's greedy. He's psychotic. Garroth hates him.

But Zane is Garroth's brother. And Garroth is the type of golden retriever, gold hearted, kind type of character to still love his brother even if he hates him.

That doesn't mean he goes in and is like, nice to him though. Nope. Garroth goes to visit him and nine times out of ten it devolves into a screaming match where Zane antagonizes him the entire time and Garroth yells at him for being a shitty human being.

And then one day Phoenix Drop is attacked and Zane escapes.

They track him down eventually. When they find him, they strike a deal with him. Due to Irene related shenanigans they need his expertise as a scholar of Irene to figure out some more stuff for Aphmau. In exchange, they'll protect him from the Shadow Lord (who he pissed off by stealing one of his soul fragments lol Zane behavior).

Eventually they're able to establish a rapore with Zane. Garroth still gets a migraine whenever they have a conversation. Vylad still refuses to speak to him (oh btw he's visiting from his nether revolution vacation just so u know) and Aphmau still wants to tear out his guts for killing the love of her life or whatever, but he becomes manageable. They can like, stand him. A little bit. Slightly.

And then Zianna gets kidnapped or whatever. So they go rescue her. But when they get back to Phoenix Drop they forget to mention the fact that Zane is like. There and in the wild and not currently killing entire villages worth of people.

So Zianna rolls up to Phoenix Drop and gets jumpscared by her youngest son and also, notably, Zane is NOT happy to see her. He shuts the front door in her face. It's hilarious even though Garroth doesn't think of it that way.

So, now we have our key players all in one place. Garroth, Vylad, Zane, and Zianna.

Let's say they have to all go find an artifact toghether or something and they need Zianna there because it's related to something she knows and they need Zane there because of Irene lore reasons. they go on this mission. One day, they sit and set up for the night, set up bedrolls, whatever. They're lounging around the fire and talking when Vylad eventually mentions his time as a shadow knight in the nether and something about torture.

Zane blinks, and, having not been included in the conversation initially, buts it to say,

"Oh, please. Don't tell me getting tortured by those amatures was DISTRESSING for you. I would have thought father's methods would have given you thicker skin."

The others bristle and start scolding him, of course, because Zane is like, the reason Vylad became a shadow knight in the first place. But Vylad himself, who is very observant and hard to antagonize, latches into something Zane said.

"Methods? What methods?" He says. He says it sharply, too.

Of course, Zane doesn't pick up on this. He just rolls his eyes.

"Don't tell me you forgot. Father had a whole floor dedicated to torture and loved collecting new methods from around the region. I think he even had a historian employed who would research for him..."

"What?" Garroth says, stunned out of his anger.

Zianna has gone silent. So has everyone else, and now they're watching with baited breaths.

"So what? What would that have to do with me?"

And for the first time that they've ever seen, Zane looks... Puzzled.

"What, did he go easy on you? Didn't you talk back to him all the time? Once, after just asking him a question, he had two of my nails pulled. Shadow Knight torture was child's play in comparison," he shrugs, then takes a bite out of his stale price of bread.

There's silence.

Zane looks back at all of them, confused and now kind of pissed off. He looks like he usually does when he feels like he's about to be scolded for saying something crass. Except, that's not what happens. Instead, Vylad looks him in the eye for the first time since Zane killed him, and with the most emotion they've ever heard from him, says,

"What?"

Zane hums.

"Come on. Don't play dumb. He hated you. Im sure he must have sent you to the "torture basement" at least once. You got on his nerves constantly,"

Garroth makes an aborted movement, like he's going to stand up and rush him, but Vylad stops him with a flick of his hand. And then Vylad starts doing what he does best. Interrogating him.

So remember that list, right? Let's reframe a few things.

Zane was not the favorite child. Garroth was.

Garte was a paice of shit. Garte hated Vylad. But he also hates Zane. Why wouldn't he? Vylad was his wife's affair child, sure, but Zane, Zane was Zianna's spitting image.

When Zane was little, he used to take snails and out them in the grass after it rained. He uses to clamor for his mother's pastries just like his brothers. He was a normal child, and he was NOT born a psychopath.

But Garte had a thought, one day.

Wouldn't it be funny... If he made his wife think he WAS one?

Wouldn't it be funny to punish her that way? Wouldn't it be funny to turn Zane into a terrible person, and have her think it was for no reason? Make her think that she birthed a psychopath? How much would it hurt her? How much would she weep?

Garte used to punish Zane for Vylad's joy. One of Vylad's laughs would equal one slap to the face. One side remark in defence of their mother would equal one hour locked in his father's study closet in his office.

Garte turns Zane against himself brothers. And the best part in his mind?

He makes Zane believe that they know about all of it.

He tells Zane that his mother knows about it. That his brothers don't care that he's beaten. That Vylad does things so he gets punished on purpose.

Zane grows up thinking that his brothers probably go through this too. He grows up thinking that his mother just doesn't love him. And so he doesn't say a thing.

Garte starts having him tortured instead of superficially physically abused? He says nothing.

Garte makes him become a priest of Okasis even though the consequence of failing the academy is death? He says nothing.

Garte would encourage Zane to blugeon animals to death and bring them to Zianna and laugh at her horrified face from afar. Garte encourages Zane to say psychotic things while they're eating dinner, and watches as his family becomes more and more convinced Zane is a monster.

Until Zane is one.

But this reframes a few things.

The people Zane killed? It was under orders. He eventually became his father's right hand man. Most of his overarching goals have been in service of his father.

For Aaron's village, we'll stick a pin in that one, but long story short, Aaron's village had been planning a coup that night under his wife's orders. Zane had them killed under his father's orders so they could eliminate them as political neighbors. He let Aaron live out of pity.

And Vylad.

Basically, remember when I said that Garte used to punish Zane according to Vylad's actions?

One day, Vylad gets into an explosive argument with Garte defending Zianna. And Garte, again, without the other's knowing, has Zane tortured. Except this time it's for a WEEK STRAIGHT.

So when Zane gets out. He's. Very unstable.

And then he comes across Vylad in a semi secluded area.

And Vylad is acting like he did nothing, and all he's ever done is make Zane suffer, and Zane hates him hates him HATES HIM--

And so he snaps. And he kills him.

Keep in mind, though, Zane thinks this is all normal. He doesn't realize that killing his own brother has traumatized him. He doesn't realize that he's a victim of abuse. He doesn't realize that what his dad did is not okay because he THINKS HIS FAMILY KNOWS WHAT HAPPENED, and if they didn't contradict his abuse, then this must be normal. He thinks that Vylad has probably been tortured too. He thinks Garroth is their father's favorite because in his mind he's determined that Garroth not receiving any attention from their father is a GOOD thing because ATTENTION EQUALS TORTURE to him.

And this reframes a few things. His constant bid for power? It's not greed, it's DESPERATION. Power makes him feel safe. Hurting others makes him feel powerful because that's how his father had power over him.

His highly volatile and violent personality? It's l he's ever known. Do you have ANY idea what torture could do to a child? He has severe PTSD. Like, severe and repressed and his outburst are more common when he's uncomfortable or anxious or experiencing any negative emotion, which is often.

Garte took Zane's empathy from him. Turned him against his family. Made him into a monster. With these types of characters, I imagine it would probably be very difficult for them to redevelop their emotions and empathy because if they do that, they would have to face their whole mountain of trauma and the guilt of all the lives they've ruined.

I think eventually, after a lot of work, Zane does eventually regain his empathy. It probably finally sinks in during a small gathering. His mother makes her famous cake. Zane has long gotten used to being excluded during these sorts of things, but then...

His mother slides a plate of cake right in front of him.

Strawberry.

His favorite.

And she smiles at him.

This is probably after they found out about Garte being a peice of shit. Maybe a few months.

All Zane has ever wanted is to be loved. Maybe he didn't know it, but when he takes a bite of his mother's strawberry cake for the first time in decades and the nostalgic taste registers in his brain, something snaps.

And he becomes human again.

And he realizes:

Oh.

I'm a person.

I'm a murderer.

I'm a monster.

LMAO WAS THIS COHERENT SORRY PANIC I TRIED MY BEST I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS ONE OSIBWIBDIBSIBU

#zane mcd #aphmau mcd #garroth ro'meave #garroth mcd #zianna ro'meave #vylad ro'meave #mcd #aphmau #minecraft diaries #this one is dark guys watch out #please dont get mad at me for this one this is one of my favorite headcanons/rewrites and it will make me extremely sad

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cosmerelists · 9 months

Text

More Ways for Hoid to be Tortured

[Includes a spoiler for Tress!]

Hoid has sure had it rough lately. He’s had his memories siphoned off, gotten cursed, even spent some quality time as a coatrack. As @kingjasnah points out in this post, Sanderson is setting a precedent here: we’re all expecting ever new and more hilarious shit to happen to Hoid.

So here are some ideas for ways that Hoid might suffer in future Cosmere books.

1. Trapped in a dimension full of talking bananas...who don’t care about stories

Hoid: And that was the story of the banana who looked up.

Banana 1: [yawning]

Banana 2: Sorry, did you say something? I was thinking about radishes.

Banana 3: I feel so neutral about everything you said!

Hoid: ...I may have found a place nearly as unpleasant as Komashi.

Hoid: Nearly.

2. A new and ever weirder food craving every day.

Hoid: Well, it seems that today I can stomach nothing except mayonnaise-topped pickles.

Design: And you’re sure you’re not pregnant?

3. Trapped on a planet during a time of no plot relevance

Design: Hey, will you look at that!

Design: According to the town newspaper, old lady Dennis FINALLY figured out who’s been eating her lettuce.

Design: Get this--it was a rabbit!

Design: That’s something, right?

Hoid: W-Was it an invested rabbit?

Design: Nope! Just a normal one.

Hoid (sinking further into his turtleneck): I have GOT to get my Luck back.

4. Can only communicate via song...after losing his perfect pitch

Hoid (singing): And thus you should learn, / that if I must, I will let this planet buuuuuuurn!

Design: Your pitch is off by a mere .0005%!

Hoid (singing): And it’s really not fair--this much is true, / that my perfect pitch, went straight to yooooou!

5. Turned into a rat

Rat-Hoid: The worst part is...it’s not even original.

6. De-Aged into a Child

Hoid: It’s not so bad, really.

Hoid: People perhaps don’t take me the most seriously, but then, I was the King’s Wit for a while so I’m used to that.

Hoid: ...I do hear the word “precocious” a lot.

7. De-Aged into a Baby

Hoid: (furiously signing with his fat baby hands) What is this, an isekai?!

Design: Hmmm...I should start a babysitting business.

8. Unable to respond to anyone unless his response rhymes

Design: I love it, to be orange.

Design: If I ever need some peace and quiet, I just end every sentence with “orange.”

Hoid: Once again I must ask you to act a bit less like a poison-filled sporange.

Design: It’s fun to watch him incorporate that word into all of his sentences!

9. Grows to the size of a mountain

Hoid: It’s not (ouch) that I mind (ouch) the mountain-climbing business that Design (ouch) is running.

Hoid: But the constant (ouch) pick-axes driving into my shins (ouch) does get a tad...distracting.

Hoid: (ouch)

10. Handcuffed to Kelsier, ala Light & L

Kelsier: [eyes gleaming]

Kelsier: And this time you can’t escape me, Drifter!

Hoid: Hey, is that a spike in your eye, or are you just happy to see me?

Kelsier: ...

Kelsier: T-That doesn’t even make any sense!

Hoid: ...This might actually be fun.

#cosmere #cosmerelists #Hoid #Design #Kelsier

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hellsingmongrel · 3 months

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So, bit of ramblings on my Post-Trimax Wolfwood headcanons.

Man, one of my favorite tropes in media is a character who's spirit lingers on after they've died, but it's usually something you only see in fanfic, so I cannot get over how FUCKING FERAL I was when I realized that it was legit a thing in Trimax, and that Wolfwood was the one we actually got to see, legitimately talking to the people he'd left behind and confirming that ghosts in the canon weren't just hallucinations or something! Like yeah, we saw Tessla leading the boys to her body, but since her ghost was never mentioned again, it could have easily have been written off as a fluke, right?

NOPE. They are real and they linger after to watch over the people they care about or to send messages to the people who are still alive! And the fact that the character who had just wormed his way into being just as beloved to me as my favorite character (Which NEVER happens, I usually only have enough brain cells for one at a time!) and that we had just had our hearts ripped to shreds watching him die was also the one we got to know had definitely stayed behind to watch over the people he loved just makes me SO HAPPY! I rp that asshole from time to time, and I just love exploring the implications of it!

I play him like he's been there a LONG TIME. When he died, Rem was there, watching over Vash, but when Knives spent the last of his energy, she chose to move on with him, now that she knew Wolfwood would be there to keep watch over Vash, and he took it SERIOUSLY. He's been waiting so long, he's lost his sense of time, he thinks it's only been a couple decades when it's been CENTURIES. And the time has softened his own trauma, he's gone from being surly and angry and defensive to being at peace and finding comfort in the fact that its allowed him to see more of Vash's life than he ever would have been able to live long enough to see when he was alive. And it's given him time to notice just how unwell Vash is, how broken he is, watching over him when he thinks he's alone and lets himself break down.

But it's also made Wolfwood a bit unwell in his own way; as time went on and the people he knew in life began to pass away, too, his interest in paying attention to what the people around them were doing wained, and his dedication to watching over Vash until it was his time to pass on became a strange sort of dependence. He loses his sense of self, in a way, until the most important thing in his existence is being there for Vash, waiting for him, having long-since accepted that when the time comes, it'll be over and he's alright with that.

He's happy, but to the perspective of a living person, it would seem TWISTED in a way. He still thinks he's a damned soul, stealing more time than he's allowed and only damning himself further by doing so, and he just knows that when he gets to walk Vash into whatever comes after for them, they'll be separated again, for the last time, and there won't be any coming back from it that time, because Vash is too good, too kind, too HOLY to ever be damned. But it's fine. Wolfwood knew he was damned long before his death, and time has just given him the chance to make peace with it and simply be happy with the fact that at least he'll be able to be with Vash when he can move on to wherever good people go at the end. And yet when it happens, Vash feels the same way about himself, so certain that he's the one who's damned, and their reunion is wonderful and painful and terrifying for both of them in different ways.

He's even worse with interacting with people, once he's forced to interact with the living. I play Wolfwood in a game where he stumbles into revealing himself after spending centuries never letting himself be seen, and he worries that going "silent" again will upset people. He's spent centuries being a silent shadow, certain that letting Vash know he was there would only cause more suffering for an already unwell mind, so he's forgotten how to interact with tact, blurting out whatever pops into his head because he's only had himself to talk to for all that time. He hurts people without meaning to, begins to suffer from the crisis of worrying that no matter what he does, he's a burden to the people who mourn him, he doesn't belong, his existence is nothing but a constant reminder of what's coming and will only cause the people around him pain. He's both able to be the kind, caring, loving person he might have been if the Eye of Michael had never taken him from the orphanage, and also a HUGE, ANXIOUS WRECK.

And the thing that makes it all worse for him is the fact that when he was dumped into the game I have him in, he was separated from the Vash of his timeline, and now lives in constant fear that he'll never see him again, that he won't be there when he passes on and there won't be anyone to greet him on the other side, alone and never knowing that he was waiting for him. He made a promise to Rem that he'd watch over him for her, that he'd lead him to his final destination where he could be with his family again, and now that he's lost that, what purpose does he have? He's terrified to let go himself, worried he'll pass onto the other side when Vash was right around the corner, but the thought of lingering without finding him again, missing his chance to be there for him when it's his turn, leaves him in an almost constant state of almost-panic.

I also just think it's kind of sweetly poetic, if in the end, he chose to continue the role he'd been forced into; take Vash where he's supposed to be. Only this time, it's his choice, and it won't be to his death. He wants to guide him to where he knows people are waiting for him, where he'll finally be happy and be at peace. He doesn't mind the fact that he's going to Hell, so long as he was able to be the one that leads Vash to the place where he won't have to be in pain ever again.

#Trigun #Trigun Maximum #Nicholas D. Wolfwood #Vash the Stampede #This probably is a bit insufferably angsty #I can't tell #I'm PMSing and having Vashwood feels and I'm making it eveyone else's problem!#But no really though I fuckin' LOVE ghosts in media!#Favorite trope 10/10 would rip my heart out again!#RP musings #Vashwood #Also yeah this may be completely out of character to other people but #S H R U G #This is just where my brain lead me when I started wondering what Wolfwood's ghost did after Trimax #Also I know it doesn't exactly fit canon but his Vash has started developing salt-and-pepper streaks in his black hair #and little age lines because he's like 500 YEARS OLD at that point or something #andI kind of love that mental image #Wolfwood still thinks he's the most beautiful thing on No Man's Land but he's VERY biased and has developed a bit of an unhealthy fixation

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molarbeardoc · 3 months

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HI I’M SORRY FOR THE SPIVE ANGST SORRY CHAT PLEASE LOVE ME I’M SORRY PLEASE LOOK I’M DOING FLUFF TO MAKE YOU HAPPY PLEASE DON’T PLACE MY HEAD ON STICK PWETTY PWEASEEEEE I’M JUST A BABY A BABY WRITER DON’T HURT MWEEEEEEE

Fanfic based off THIS LOVELY PERSON’S ART PLEASE SHOW THEM SOME LOVE NOWWWWW 💛🖤💛🖤💛🖤💛🖤💛🖤

Anyway fanfic starts now :3

Mornings…

Who would want to leave the soft and warm comfort of their bed? The embrace of one’s sheets wrapped around them as if they were but a small infant once more.

There was not a single person in the world who actually enjoyed getting up.

Absolutely no one..

Not a single person…

Nope!

Okay that might have been just a teeny tiny lie…

Well… Not really a lie? How am I supposed to know, I’m just a narrator get off my back!

Moving on…

There really was one person who enjoyed mornings. For her, that meant she had lived to see another day. That she had evaded capture once more. No one could catch a genius, a reborn, intuitive Einstein as she would say. That’s right! Bive was the smartest cookie there was!

Mornings were a sign of hope, that she still had a chance to spread the truth! A chance to save everyone. Of course some were too far gone to be saved and would have to suffer the consequences for when the clowns came and snow soldiers took over but they picked their poison. They made their bed. They dug their graves. Now they had to lay in them when the time came.

Besides! Even if she couldn’t save everyone, she could save some of them! She could use her cleverness to think of plans to save those who listened. Her brains to find solutions to their biggest problems. She could accomplish anything as long as she was wide awake, as long as the gears in her head were constantly turning!

…

So why weren’t they spinning now?

She stared at her corkboard, her expression dull as she leaned against the brick wall of the maze. She felt horrible. Her head was killing her and her special brew wasn’t helping her in the slightest. If anything it made it worse! She felt top heavy and ill, her arms and legs acted as if they were a fruity gelatine. Maybe even a sweet lime flavour gelatine…

If that didn’t sound awful already. She was groggy and irritated. Her cat-like reflexes were more like a snail’s and her vision would occasionally blur.

What in the name of Clown Militia was going on with her?!

She let out an annoyed groan as she used the wall to keep herself upright before eventually succumbing and falling over. It was as if her own body were betraying her!

Useless vessel. Didn’t know she was the reason it was even alive! Talk about ungrateful…

There had to be someone she could trust to assist her. DrRETRO? No. That furball thought she was insane. Poob? No. They’d make it worse with their constant partying. Mark? He’d try and fix her with some sort of wood trick. Wallter? He trusts the flowers… Absolutely not…

Wait… God it was worse than she thought. She couldn’t even CONTACT any of them! None of them had her signal! Oh the fool she was! A complete and total fool!

Who had her radio signal..? Her memory was a bit fogged at the moment but she knew she gave it to someone..

Aha! Split! At least she thinks so? She couldn’t remember very well. She reached for her radio, twisting and turning the knobs as she attempted to reach the fruit-taur, letting out a cry of pain from the feedback and hissing through her teeth.

She let out a quiet sigh, trying to ignore the splitting pain that shot through her head, with every knob turn a new static frequency filling the air. Her voice croaking as she spoke into the radio.

"Split?"

"Split are you there?!"

The fruit-taur was sleeping peacefully in her own bed, a small banana-themed night light shining on her nightstand beside her alarm clock. It was still frankly early, only about 4am.

All was quiet…

"SPLIT!"

… Until it wasn’t…

Split immediately shot up, breathing heavily as she was suddenly awoken from her restful slumber. Her heart racing as she glanced around frantically.

"WHO’S THERE?! SHOW YOURSELF! I KNOW KUNG FU! I’VE SEEN ENOUGH MOVIES TO KNOW WHAT I’M DOING!"

Despite being unable to see, she immediately went on the defensive, tensing up as she tried to look as threatening as possible.

"Split…? Split are you there? Split..? Split!"

She turned towards her nightstand, the adrenaline dying down as it slowly became replaced with tired realization. She grabbed her glasses, putting them on before reaching for the radio.

"SPLIT?! Oh no. DID THE CLOWNS GET YOU?! OH GOD THIS IS AWFUL THEY KIDNAPPED HER?! WHAT AM I GONNA DO?! If they got her… THEN THEY’RE ATTACKING NOW! OH MY GOD OH MY GOD! THAT MEANS THEY’RE COMING FOR ME NEXT! I GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE THEY CATCH ME AND-"

"Bivey, you’re spiralling again…"

Bive’s side of the radio went quiet, as if she were processing the moment before answering.

"SPLIT YOU’RE OKAY- AcK- Ow ow radio feedback ow."

Split couldn’t help but smile, finding her worry endearing before speaking up.

"Yes, I’m fine. What’s going on with you? It’s uh…"

She glanced at the clock.

"Four in the morning. I don’t even think the early bird gets up this early!"

"IT’S AN EMERGENCY! THERE’S SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME!"

"What-?"

Well that was concerning news.

"What do you mean something is wrong with you?"

"MY BODY IS ACTING WEIRD. I THINK I MAY HAVE BEEN POISONED! SOMEONE POISONED ME!"

She listened as the detective rambled on and on, blinking as she tried to slowly put everything together.

"Poisoned-? Bive what-? No one poisoned you. You probably just have a cold."

"THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE! I CAN’T GET SICK! I-"

"Okay okay fine! You’re not sick! Just calm down."

"HOW CAN I CALM DOWN WHEN I’VE BEEN POISONED?!"

"Oh my… Bive? Just… Stay calm for now? I’ll be over soon."

Guess she wasn’t sleeping in like she originally planned. She sighed as Bive rambled some incoherent words before the radio went dead, having no clue what she said before she got up. She was just in a comfortable T-shirt, that’s decent enough to go out.

It’s not like anyone would see her, it was too early for someone to be out and about on the elevator… Apart from her of course…

Bive was leaning against the wall, her head still throbbing and body still weak. She felt awful. There was no way she WASN’T poisoned. How was this even possible?! Even if they DID make it through the maze, how did they catch her off guard?! She was awake the whole time!

This was worse than she thought. Her enemies were getting smarter. They had found her location, slipped through the maze, and caught her off guard while she was on guard! Oh this was horrible. Truly terrible! How could she save anyone in her weakened state?!

The next hours were spent in agony. Well at least it felt like hours, it had really been only thirty minutes as she sat there patiently. Waiting for the Split’s arrival.

Speaking of Split, she was already stepping off the elevator, standing outside of the maze as she yawned. The sun hadn’t even risen yet, it wasn’t even dawn. She entered the maze, knowing her way decently enough to where she couldn’t get lost and only worrying about Scary Mike and an overly excited Fleshy, more so Mike, as she navigated herself through it.

Turning one of corners, she noticed the soft glow of a yellow light. Bingo. She quickened her pace down the hall, the strong scent of coffee wafting over her as the glow became stronger. Soon enough, she was met with the living quarters of the paranoid detective.

It was just as unorganized as she remembered, red string and empty styrofoam cups littered the floor. At least she listened to her the last time Split was over and picked up the thumbtacks, those were just accidents waiting to happen. Her floppy ears lifted as she heard a quiet and pained groan, looking down to see that Bive was on the floor, against the wall, with her head in her hands.

"Bive?"

She let out a startled yelp, trying to jump back only to met with a brick wall as she hissed through gritted teeth. That didn’t help with her headache and weak body at all… She looked up at the fruit-taur, a wave of relief and realization washing over her.

"SPLIT-! HI! HELLO…"

"Are you okay?"

"No! I’ve been POISONED! I’m going to DIE!"

"You’re not going to die."

"YES I AM!"

"Why do you think that?"

"BECAUSE THERE’S SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME!"

She winced in pain as she felt another debilitating stroke of pain shoot through her head, gritting her teeth and using the wall to stand as she leaned against it. Seeing her state, Split grew concerned. Her being poisoned was a stretch but there was very well a chance she may have done or eaten something that could cause her this much harm.

"Can you tell me exactly what you’re feeling right now..?"

"Er-! A stupid headache… I feel a bit nauseous… lightweight… Annoyed with everything.."

"Have you eaten?"

"Yes…"

"Have you had some water?"

"..Yes…"

"Have you slept..?"

"…"

"Have. You. Slept?"

"Uh… No…"

"When’s the last time you have?"

"…"

"Bive… When was the last time you slept?"

"Hold on. I’m trying to remember…"

"You shouldn’t have to remember! It should’ve been recently!"

"BUT THAT LEAVES ME VULNERABLE TO THE CLOWNS AND SO-"

"You’re also vulnerable to them if you DON’T sleep!"

Touché…

"Oh please, I’m not even tired!"

"Doesn’t mean anything!"

"I think it means a lot!"

"Do you want to feel better or not?"

"I do."

"Then go to sleep!"

"But-!"

"No no! I don’t wanna hear it. No buts! If you’re that worried about being attacked by someone, I can just stay with you! Problem solved!"

Bive stared at Split for a moment. She’s never had her stay over. But seeing how much the fruit-taur wanted her to sleep, she knew she didn’t have much of a choice.

"Fine."

"Thank you…"

Split watched as the detective huffed and left to go get ready for bed, smiling as she grumbled underneath her breath. Even if she wasn’t happy with the idea, it was certainly necessary.

She continued to wait patiently before Bive reappeared, no longer in her classic coat and pants but in her own sleepwear.

"I don’t like this."

"Too bad. You need it."

"Do I though?"

"Go to bed."

Seeing as she wasn’t going to be able to wriggle herself away from this situation, she groaned before heading off back to her room, falling onto the bed and just laying there while waiting for fall asleep. She wasn’t very good at this thing…

Split stood outside the door, still feeling sluggish but forcing herself to stay awake. She had no idea what time it was since Bive owned no clocks; something about time being stopped and how every other clock was a fake, but it felt as if it were still early. She felt herself dozing off, but tried to fight against it. Right as she was about to drift off to sleep, she felt someone tap her shoulder.

"Split…? I can’t sleep."

She jerked awake, staring down at Bive before sighing.

"Are you okay?"

"I’m fine! Just tired.."

"Oh…"

"…"

"Do you wanna sleep in my bed?"

"What?"

"I MEAN YOU DON’T HAVE TO! I just thought.. Ya know!"

She stared tiredly down at the stammering and jittery detective, a small grin appearing on her face.

"I’ll take you up on that offer…"

Bive paused, looking at Split before forcing out a nervous laugh.

"AHAH! Uh OKAY!"

She led the fruit-taur into her room, watching as she dragged her paws towards the bed. She paused midway before looking towards Bive.

"Wait. Where are you gonna sleep?"

"Uhh… I just… won’t? Since I’m not tired..?"

She gave her a nervous smile, flashing her yellow tinted teeth at Split. Unfortunately for her, the other’s gaze hardened.

"Alright, I’ll just fix it this way."

Before she could get a reply out, she was dragged into the bed with her, the fruit-taur was holding her close as she sighed.

"This… This isn’t necessary you know?"

"Yes it is."

"But-"

"Bivey?"

"… Yes?"

"Goodnight."

"… Goodnight, Split.."

Bive fell quiet, listening quietly as Split’s breathing eventually slowed into quiet snores. She laid there a moment, before clinging onto the other, snuggling against her before sighing. A sudden wave of exhaustion washed over her as she began drifting off.

"Goodnight…"

RAHHHHHHH FANFIC FINISHED. Sorry if it isn’t as good as my angst fic, I hope you enjoyed it though!!!!!

Omw to work on the Cheshire Cat doomed yuri fanfic someone double dog dared me to write now bye sillies <3

#regretevator #regretevator bive #regretevator split #bive regretevator #bive #split #split regretevator #bive x split #split x bive #regretevator spive #spive regretevator #spive #she regret on my evator

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