#i guess the short answer to your question is 'panic a little bit and then feed him pickles'

[firstelevens]

I must ask about WEE BABIES! do you see sambucky having kids in your au? if yes, soon after they're married or wayyy into the future? hypothetically what would happen if *gasp* their child doesn't have a sweet tooth? 😱

The answer to this question would have been a clear no a few months ago but now I think it’s fifty-fifty. If they did have a kid, it would probably be a couple years into their marriage, and if that kid did not have a sweet tooth, I think it would go a little something like this:

“This is your fault, you know.”

“My fault?” 

“One hundred percent,” says Bucky, lifting their son into his lap and narrowly avoiding dragging his knuckles through ketchup. He’s opting to ignore the way that Riley dramatically flopped onto the table after pushing away his plate, a move that definitely came straight out of the Barnes playbook.

“You’re blaming me for the fact that he doesn’t like cake,” Sam says, as he brings their plates over, already dished out. The era of serving dishes on the table ended right around when Riley figured out how to get a grip on serving spoons and they haven’t gone back yet.

“He knows that—thanks, sweetheart—he knows that Daddy can’t carry him if Daddy’s carrying cake, and now he resents an entire genre of food.”

Sam snorts. “Yeah, it’s that and not the fact that he just doesn’t like sweet things.”

“He did act like we tried to poison him that time we fed him ice cream,” muses Bucky. “Doesn’t explain why he took one look at the chicken nuggets and decided that they were cake, too.”

Riley, not one to let his opinions go unvoiced, shifts his face slightly away from where it’s tucked into Bucky’s chest and cries out, “No cake!”

“No cake,” repeat Sam and Bucky, practiced enough to be in sync now.

“I think it’s the color,” says Sam, picking up one of the nuggets to examine it. “And I guess they’re shaped kind of like the gingerbread he tried and hated at Sarah’s.”

“I can’t believe cookies don’t get a pass, either,” says Bucky. “What are we supposed to bribe him with when he gets older?”

“Cucumbers,” says Sam. “And cherry tomatoes, when we’re desperate.”

“This kid’s being raised by two semi-professional bakers and he’s got the same diet as AJ’s pet turtle.”

Sam laughs out loud, and Riley immediately turns to look at him like he doesn’t want to miss it. Bucky can’t blame him, even if it does mean having to scramble to hold Riley secure in his lap as he wriggles around.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to hold him?” asks Sam. “How are you gonna eat?”

“I’ll be fine,” says Bucky. “One of us skipped lunch today, and it wasn’t me.”

Sam’s eyes narrow. “How’d you know that?”

“Cass ratted you out,” Bucky says. “How does a man spend ten hours a day surrounded by food and somehow still miss a meal?”

“J and I shot an extra video today so I could take tomorrow off,” says Sam, and points with his fork towards Bucky’s plate without interrupting himself. “I got distracted.”

Bucky takes the hint and looks down to see what put that little grin on Sam’s face: Riley’s chubby hand reaching out to grab one of the vareniki on Bucky’s plate. They both watch as he examines it, then grin wider as he seems to deem it far enough from cake and takes a bite.

It’s important that they not hover, so Bucky makes himself continue the conversation even though he’d much rather watch Riley copy the way Sam is eating.

“I swear, I’m gonna start setting a reminder on your phone like old people have for their pills.”

“Yeah, ‘cause what I need in a kitchen with six ovens and a dozen batches of proving dough at any given minute is more timers.”

“Then prepare for Cass to keep– wait, zaychik, that’s not a normal cucumber; I don’t think you’ll…”

Bucky trails off as Riley takes a bite of a cornichon, braced for his horrified reaction to the sourness. Instead, all they get is a thoughtful hum before he takes a second bite.

“What the hell?” mouths Sam, and all Bucky can do is shrug.

“Try the beets,” he mouths back at Sam, and watches as Sam spears a vinegar-dressed beet with his fork. A second later, Riley picks one up, too. This time, sweet doesn’t seem to be an issue, and he immediately goes for another one before turning back to the dumplings.

At some point, Sam’s phone came out of his pocket, and now he’s got it pointed at Bucky, shoulders shaking with laughter.

“What have we learned today, Buck?”

“That apparently you could’ve been wielding your influence way more often at the dinner table?”

“Bucky.”

“We’ve learned that sometimes picky eaters aren’t picky eaters,” he says, with a laugh. “Sometimes they’re just Russian.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Hey, just 'cause I'm teaching him about his family, doesn't mean you're off the hook for the cake thing.”

“Papa, no cake!”

“No cake, buddy,” Bucky intones solemnly, and kisses the side of Riley’s head. "Guess we'll just do a giant bowl of beets for the third birthday then, huh?"

(This time, when Sam throws his head back and laughs, both Riley and Bucky stop what they're doing to admire him.)

#thank you jules!!! #i guess the short answer to your question is 'panic a little bit and then feed him pickles' #local woman writes AU of own AU; dozens of circa 2012 tumblr denizens emerge to yell 'AU-ception!' #sambucky #the gbbo au #my fic #zainab does ask meme things #hot2go #next one's gonna be shorter I SWEAR

[foone]

Your best guess is that you've been in this time loop for something north of 15 years. You've lived that day, April 9th, 1997, something like 6000 times. You think... The second most ironic thing about being in this time loop* is that you have ADHD, and time blindness has always been something you've suffered with.

The time loop hasn't helped. You'll really get into a book, and don't look up from it until it's yesterday. Or, earlier today? Or tomorrow, it's all the same day. You wake up in your bed at 8:27, having slept through your alarm, no matter what happens. You've had plenty of time to do all the classic time loop things: told everyone (they forget the next day), kissed everyone (a surprising number of people turn out to be up for itl), tried to run (you made it all the way to Memphis one day, but it didn't make any difference), tried to make everything perfect and right (harder than you'd think, and there's nothing obvious that needs fixing), and gotten yourself exploded and shot and run over. You even made it into orbit once, NASA still swearing at you on the radio the whole way up. You've robbed all the local banks, kidnapped the mayor, and stolen half the stuff in the town, just to see what people have. Why not? It's hard to have a sense of morality when there are no repercussions to any actions, at least none that last more than 24 hours.

You convinced a scientist to shoot neutrinos at you once, thanks to something you'd read in a book on time. Didn't seem to make any difference, though you could swear the next day felt different, in some hard to define way.

You've gotten into a rhythm of starting each day and just walking out your front door, to visit a different place in the city, and knock on their door. If they're home, you ask questions, then use the answers next time to get further. If not, you let yourself in and see what their house looks like from the inside.

Even their shocking crimes no longer can shock you. Mr. Stevens is a burgler, Jenny J. is halfway through murdering her husband, Alex over on 5th street has a basement full of photos they shouldn't have, and more neighbors than you'd think are cooking meth or growing cannabis in their little backyard sheds or closets.

You can go to the police, you can confront them, you can explose them, or you can get a weapon and go all vigilante on them... It doesn't matter in the long run (and for you, the long run is very short indeed). They'll be fine the next morning, back at it again like nothing happened.

You wake up that same Wednesday morning, put on some clothes, and walk out the door. You got into a gimmick of crossing the road with your eyes closed: you know where the cars are, and if you keep the same pace, they definitely won't hit you. Besides, if you do, you wake up back in your bed. Big woop.

But you don't make it to the road this time. You trip, falling on the hard concrete of the sidewalk. What the hell? Your arms ache from catching yourself, and you have to suppress the time-looper instinct of "I hurt. Restart the loop!",at least until you figure out what happened.

You look back and there's a sneaker sitting on the sidewalk. A perfectly normal shoe, just a little skuffed up. A bit down the sidewalk, there's another, the other foot presumably.

You have a moment of equal parts panic and elation. You're out of the loop? You're out of the loop! This might be Thursday.

You gather yourself from the sidewalk and run back up the path to your door. You open the newspaper... April 9th. This is still the same day. You look back at the road, seeing the patterns of crossing cars you've seen thousands of times before. You listen, and your neighborhood sounds right. You can hear Timothy down the road yelling about baseball, so it's not 9:14 yet.

This isn't a new day. This is the day. This is your day. So why is something different? What, a partial time loop? And almost time loop? Most things are the same, but not all? It makes no sense.

You hear yelling down the road. You jog towards it, as an out of place sound just doesn't happen in your day. Around the corner there's a police officer shouting at a woman who is rapidly disrobing and flinging her discarded clothes at the officer, who is shouting at her and his radio. So far, she seems to be winning, but she's about out of linen ammunition.

You realize you don't recognize her. She's not one of the people you know, and you know everyone. She's someone new, the very anthesis of what a time loop is about. That, combined with recognizing that charicatistic disdain for consequences makes you gasp. My God... She's another time looper. She's done this day before, and it's just repeated, and now she's doing everything to see what happens. You're not alone in this crowded city anymore! You run towards her, eager to introduce yourself.

* Themost ironic thing about being in this time loop is that every copy of Groundhog Day at your local Blockbuster is checked out.

#Time loop #my writing

[waaayoutofline]

When the Cat and the Mouse go for a midnight dance.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Tags: Agent Natasha x Criminal // Antihero Reader, violence, blood, murder and death, questionable moral reader, romantic insinuation (but not smut). Basically reader being a little shit and Natasha being tired of it. Fun and violent times :)

Summary —> Natasha has been chasing you, a fugitive and self claimed vigilante, for a while. One night, your paths cross again and you can’t help but to tease her a bit.

WORD COUNT: 2025

The sun’s warmth has faded, yielding to dense shadows that engulf the streets. Amid dark corners and treacherous alleys, fear triggers instincts, the sympathetic system heightening defenses and hijacking paranoia. Adrenaline kicks in, heart racing, body preparing fro any kind of danger looming around the corners.

And yet, you’ve always found a sense of comfort in it.

“Nah, I’m telling you, man, forget him. I’m not going back; that place is a hellhole.” a slightly drunk voice slurs, echoing against brick walls as rats scurry from dumpsters. A lighter crackles, followed by smoke drifting in the chilled breeze.

”Oh yeah? So, when are you telling him that?” Another scrawny voice asks with amusement. A silence, followed by a dry chuckle. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Smoke drifts slightly with the breeze, temperature drooping slightly.

“Shit, it's freezing out here.” One of the two complains.

The darkness the night brings…It allows you to hide. Yourself, your actions. From praying eyes. From the world. Perhaps even God if you are a believer.

“We’ve been safeguarding the warehouse for ages. What’s in there that he cares so much about?” he asks, taking another drag of his cigarette. For his voice, it was easy to guess he has had the nasty habit of smoking for years.

“Who knows. Drugs, guns, people…his usual shit.” His friend answers. “Honestly, I rather not know.”

You take the shot on your hand, leaving it on the trail before shaking your hair messily. A sigh scapes your lips as your hands pull down on your uncomfortably short dress.

“Whatever. I don’t give a damn as long as the money keeps flowing. Maybe he could throw in one of those spare companions of his.” The smile in his tone is evident.

“What? Want his sloppy seconds?”

“Oh fuck off.”

It allows you to either be the prey…or the hunter.

With practiced, seemingly haphazard steps, you maneuver your way toward one of the two men outside, their head turning immediately. “Woah there, sweetheart,” the one who catches you slurs, his hands immediately on your waist. His eyes darkening as he stares at you. “We wouldn’t want a sweet thing like you to hurt herself now, would we?” His breath reeks of bourbon and tobacco, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at how effortlessly this is playing out.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Your voice is sweet, innocent—a trap. “I’m so clumsy.” He laughs, revealing yellowed and crooked teeth.

“That’s alright, glad I was here.” A silly giggle, another stumble.

“Got lost?” His friend asks, currently behind you. “You shouldn’t be. There are dangerous people out here.”

At least he got that part right.

The shorter one of the two steps closer. “I was just looking for something. Think you can help?” you say, looking up with doe eyes. He appears foolish as he stares with a blurry gaze.

A whistle. “Sure thing.” You find yourself almost trapped between the two.

“Great, thanks.” Your voice returns to normal, and in a matter of seconds, you punch the one in front of you in the throat. His dirty, clammy fingers release you in panic to clutch his throat, emitting a pathetic choking sound.

“What the fu-” As his friend reacts, you swiftly turn around and knee him in the groin. He howls and crumples to the floor with a cry.

“You bitch-“ Douchebg A says as he swings, movement sloppy. You easily dodge, making him tip and fall over his buddie, the two grunting. With a sigh, you grab the collar of his jacket and drag him to the vent of the rooftop, slamming him extra hard for good measure.

He is about to strand up, but you punch him on his nose with all your strength, one, two, three times until blood drips all over his gray shirt. As his back drags down the wall behind him, you kick him full force on the face.Between the pain and the alcohol on his system, he remains seated.

Just as Douchebag B gets on all fours, you walk towards him and kick him on the stomach, making him drop to the floor once again. He rolls around, trying to get away but you grab his hair and slam him downwards.

Making sure both of them are now unmoving, your hands catch the dagger strapped on your thigh and the map. Douchebag B is still wheezing, with a concussion probably. Crouching, you shove the map on his face. “Alright. So, about that help. Point to me where the warehouse is.”

He grunts. “Like hell I’ll tell you.” He spits. A sigh escapes your lips.

”It’s never easy with you people, is it?” Flipping your dagger, you stab in the side of his lower thigh, making him yelp. “I’m not asking nicely again. Point it or I’ll take this out and you’ll bleed out in a few minutes.”

He sputters, shaking his head. You dig deeper and he lets out another cry. Dragging it down, blood starts to spurt, skin and muscle ripping. “Fuck okay, okay! Here, i-its here…S-shit.” His shaky hands marks a street, leaving a smear of blood.

You turn to watch Douchebag A. “Now, you are going to say the address. I hope for both your sakes that it matches.” He mutters it. A pause as your eyes scans the map.

You fold it, a satisfied little smile on your face and then you pull the knife out, getting away just in time to avoid a spurt of blood. “Uh, messy.”

His friends curses. You can see how his face gets pale, breaths becoming shallower as a pool of blood starts to surround him. “What the fuc- He told you! W-we told you!”

Wiping the knife with the soon-to-be dead man on the ground, you put it back in place and walk towards him. A pipe on the ground lifts as you step on it and you grab it.You pout mockingly. “Yeah, I guess you did. Don’t worry, I believe you.”

“Y-you sick bit-..:”

A swing. Two. A sickening sound of broken bones and then nothing.

The silence returns once again, only slightly disturbed by your soft humming as you go back on your steps, closing the rooftop door and returning to the dim hallways of the club. As you advance, the thrumming of the loud music beat alongside your racing heart, a mass of drunken bodies not giving a single fuck at the suspicious now maroon spot on your midnight blue dress.

Entering the bathroom, you swiftly change into your standard attire, concealed within a hidden backpack. Black jeans, a wine crop top, and a dark blue denim jacket replace the compromised ensemble. Glancing in the mirror, you prepare to rejoin the dance floor with a specific goal in mind—the bar.

Where a cute, striking bartender is apparently engrossed in serving drinks. You say apparently because you know that in reality, she is too busy searching for you. Opting to spare her the pursuit, you lock eyes, and your heart quickens for an entirely different reason.

Forest green eyes fixate solely on you, creating a euphoria-like sensation despite your sobriety. A subtle smirk materializes under the focused gaze, and with a gentle sway of your hips, you approach her slowly, almost teasingly. On your way, you accidentally get in the way of a woman, who ends up backing away on a body next to her. ”Oh, so sorry!” You call out with an easy smile, still not changing directions.

“What? Not using the “what is such a beautiful lady like yourself doing here out of all places” line?” You tease, sitting on the stool, resting your chin on your right hand. She scoffs.

”Oh please, we both know that the lady is fully aware of what she is doing.” Her voice is deep, a bit raspy. Her words are calculated and you just want for her to lose her composure.

With a playful tone, you note. “Hm, you didn’t deny the “beautiful”. Do you fancy me, Agent Romanoff?”

“Hm, perhaps. Only if only you weren’t a worldwide fugitive.” Natasha answers back, tone dripping with mockery.

”I’l take that as a yes.” She wipes a glass, your eyes tracking the simple yet effective movements. “So, tell me. How many to the party did you bring today? For your sake, I hope they aren’t rookies.”

Natasha scoffs. “The building is surrounded. If you come willingly now, it all would go more…easy. For both of us.”

A snort. ”Aw, and cut short this cute Tom and Jerry little game we have? Please. We both know you enjoy it just as much as me, Natalia.” Her name comes out in almost a whisper as you get slightly closer. Your words hang in the air, charged with tension. “Don't tell me you don’t reveal on the thrill of the chase.”

She chuckles, the sound rich and low. “You and your flair for the dramatic. But let's not forget the reality of our situation. You are a criminal, and I’m tasked with bringing you in.”

It’s funny, really. The way in which this banter is maybe the only thing that makes adrenaline rush into your veins, well that besides your job of course. Still, you can't help but feel amused by it. “Yeah, sure, because your buddies are going to stop me. Let’s see, then!”

Clapping with your hands happily, you turn around slightly to look at the crowd. “Who will it be? PDA couplet over there?”

Natasha follows your pointing thumb, frowning when she sees the girl you shoved “accidentally”, now passionately making out with a tall, brunette dude. “The ones who guarded the exits which are currently tied up in the janitors closet?…Or perhaps the one who will tell you about my little handywork?”

Just in time, a slight buzzing tingles in the Russian agent’s ear. “Agent Romanoff, we found two gang members on the roof. One is already dead, several blunt trauma, and the other is about to bleed out. He has a few minutes tops.”

Her veiny hand grips the counter, knuckles turning white. A low whistle escapes you at the sight. “I mean, you could try and stop me yourself. Let me say, I’m not opposed to you putting me in handcuffs.” You tease with a dangerous glint in your eyes, your fingers tracing her left wrist up to her bicep. If she is bothered because of your touch, she doesn’t show it. But you see how her grip relaxes ever so slightly. Hm, interesting. “...or you could go, get the information from that dying bastard before it’s too late and you end up being stuck in a dead-end. Again.”

The wheels in her head are practically visible. Her eyes darken, and her jaw tenses. Oh, how you love to see her all worked up, knowing that you are one of the few who can break her cold composure. You mouth a tick-tock and with a hard downing of the bottle on her hand to the counter.

”This isn’t over. I’ll get my hands on you eventually.”

A pout. “Promise?” With a last scowl, she flies off.

Rushing through the stairs, the cold air hits Natasha on the face, her eyes adjusting to the poor light. “How is he?” Her eyes fall on the weapons you used, hand grabbing the now blooded pipe.

“I already cover the wound, but the blood he's lost is too much. He won't make it to the medbay.” Crouching next to him, Natasha see the sickly pale tone of his face, eyes practically close and hears the shallow, broken breaths. Her eyes inspect the now covered deadly wound and grunts in frustration. “Hey, can you hear me?”

No response. He is dead. Out of frustration, she punches the vent next to him. “Um, ma’am? You should see this.”

A brick wall, right next to the door, with a message written in blood. “When you stop scowling, give me a call dear. Swear I’ll play nice.”

Grunting in frustration, Natasha throws the pipe against the wall, fuming. Looking over the street, she doesn’t see you anywhere. You are gone, even if something tells her you are giggling under the shadows.

#mcu #fanfic #marvel #marvel blurb #natasha romanoff #black widow #reader insert #natasha x reader

[slut4thebroken]

Exposure Therapy pt. 12

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x reader

Summary | Jon comes home to find you crying and in a moment of weakness, you make a mistake.

Warnings | Sexual content, 18+, smut, pregnancy scare, post panic attack?, angst, comfort, body worship?, deep throating, fingering, vaginal sex, breeding, disgusting fluff

Words | 4.3k

Notes | I recommend grabbing a barf bag before proceeding because the fluff in this is absolutely nauseating. (Also I’m reusing gifs now I guess😭)

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Part 11

The front door opened softly, then shut just as quiet, and you held your breath as you listened for his footsteps. He called your name, presumably walking around the apartment to find you. Then the handle on the bathroom door jiggled, but it wouldn’t open. 

“Don’t come in.” You croaked, even though it was locked anyway. 

“Are you crying? What happened?” He sounded significantly more worried now, which only made you feel worse. 

“Nothing, I- I’m just.. going to the bathroom.” You muttered weakly, hugging your legs tighter to your chest. 

“Please let me in, little one.” You let out a quiet sob and buried your face in your knees. After a moment, you heard the door crack open and you lifted your head as he walked in, pocketing his keys. You cursed at yourself for not remembering that these kinds of door handle locks can be turned from the outside. 

“What happened?” He kneeled next to you and brushed your hair away from your face to see you better as his other hand gently wiped the tears off your cheeks. 

“I- I threw up.” You said through a sob, feeling your chest start to tighten and your breathing start to come in short pants again. 

“That’s why you’re crying?” You knew he didn’t understand it yet. 

“Jon, I threw up.” You gave him a knowing look as you bit your trembling lip, waiting for him to figure it out. His lips parted and his eyes just barely widened, so you gave him a pained smile before looking at your knees again. 

“Do you still feel sick?” 

“Not because of that.” You muttered, mostly sure that you were nauseous from anxiety and fear now, rather than actual morning sickness. He helped you to your feet and brought you over to the sink, instructing you to just rinse your mouth out a little so you didn’t have to keep tasting it. When you finished, he led you to the bed and pulled you onto it, letting you lay over him as he wrapped his arms around your torso. 

“You can take a test, then we’ll go from there, okay?” He said softly, placing a kiss on your hair. 

“What about after that? It’s not like I can exactly just walk into a clinic now.” 

“I know a doctor who owes me a favor. I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” 

“You don’t have to apologize, Jon.” The exhaustion was clear in your voice, especially now that you were laying down, in his arms. 

“Regardless, I’m still sorry you had to go through that alone. I won’t leave your side until we have it figured out.” 

“You don’t have to do that… I overreacted.” 

“I’d hardly call having a panic attack over a very valid fear overreacting.” He scoffed teasingly, making the corners of your lips turn up a little. 

“Still, if I would’ve just thought it through for a moment I wouldn’t have spiraled.”

“They’re called irrational fears for a reason, darling.”

“You keep doing that.” You muttered, cheeks burning. 

“Doing what?”

“Calling me new names.” 

“You like them.” He said simply, as if that explained the total switch from reluctantly calling you one name, to now using multiple, voluntarily. 

“But you don’t…” The way you said it made it sound like a question, but he didn’t answer. You did, however, hear his heart rate increase slightly. “Do you?” You asked skeptically, practically able to feel the way he probably rolled his eyes. 

“It’s tolerable.” He muttered and you lifted your head to look at him, finding the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips. 

“God- you’re such a softie.” You mumbled, laying back down, biting back a grin. He scoffed in response. 

“Once you’re feeling better, we’ll see if you still think I’m a softie.” The seductive tone made your stomach flutter. 

“Sex doesn’t count. That’s pretend.” After a moment of silence, he seemed to realize you won this round because the only response you got was a huff. 

You laid there silently, listening to his heart beating and trying to feel the warmth of his chest beneath his suit. His hand moved up to lightly play with your hair and scratch your head, making your eyes flutter shut as you smiled. 

“Feels good.” You mumbled against him, eyes growing incredibly heavy all of a sudden. 

“Are you tired?” He asked quietly and you hummed in agreement. “Go to sleep, little one. I’ll be here when you wake up.” He placed another kiss on top of your head, making your heart flutter. 

“Thanks. Love you.” You mumbled, words slurring together. His hand froze and he stiffened beneath you, but it barely registered in your exhausted brain. He placed another kiss on your head, this one longer and gentler, then continued petting your hair, his heart pounding much louder in his chest now. 

Despite getting a few hours of sleep, you still felt tired and drained when you woke up, more than likely because of your extremely long and intense crying session. The second you realized that all you felt were the sheets, you opened your eyes and reached out on the bed, feeling for him. 

“Jon?” You mumbled, trying to get your eyes to adjust to the light. 

“I’m here.” You turned over and found him sitting on the bed next to you, now in sweatpants and a shirt, with some papers on his lap. 

“God- I feel like shit.” You groaned, letting your head drop into the pillow. 

“I left water for you on the nightstand. Do you want anything else?” Fuck— water sounds amazing right now. Keeping your head buried in the pillow, you blindly reached for the nightstand and moved your hand around until you met the bottle sitting there. You barely lifted your head enough to chug the drink. 

“I hate crying, I always feel so gross and tired after.” You grumbled, setting the bottle back on the nightstand. 

“You seem to be in a better mood despite that.” He noted. You laid back down on the pillow and placed a hand on his bicep, wanting to touch him, but still trying to let him work. 

“I trust you and I know you’re going to help me figure it out.” You let your eyes fall shut, listening to his pen gliding across the paper. 

“Are you okay with a normal test? Or would you prefer to get tested at the doctor's office.” 

“Um…” You bit your lip, feeling embarrassed about your answer. False negatives on drugstore tests are not uncommon. Plus you just trust an ‘official’ test more. He seemed to pick up on what you were thinking though. 

“I’ll take you.” 

“Thanks.” Your heart suddenly dropped when you got hit with deja vu. “Thanks. Love you.” Oh fuck. 

Oh fuck. 

Clearing your throat, you tried to organize your thoughts and not panic. Maybe he didn’t hear it? He doesn’t seem upset so maybe he did hear it but he doesn’t care? Because he didn’t say it back… Is that why he’s not laying with you anymore and laying beside you instead?

He shushed you softly and placed his hand over yours on his arm. 

“I didn’t say anything…” 

“Not aloud, no.” Sometimes it’s a little unnerving how easily he can read you. Should you apologize? Take it back? He would’ve said it back by now if he felt the same way though… You tried not to tear up at the thought, but it made your chest ache and you couldn’t help it. 

“I- I didn’t mean… I said that by accident. I didn’t mean to.” You said weakly. The pen on the paper suddenly stopped and you held your breath, waiting to be yelled at or left alone. 

“You didn’t mean to say it or you didn’t mean it?” He asked quietly. You bit your lip and angled your face more toward the pillow because you could practically feel his eyes on your head. 

“Um…” You did mean it. And you’re pretty sure he knows that. This felt like one of those moments that would change the way everything goes from here. If you tell him the truth, he either feels the same way, or he doesn’t. If you lie, he’ll either be relieved or disappointed. You’re not sure which option is more worth the risk. 

“It’s okay if you didn’t mean it.” What the fuck does that mean?

“Did you want me to mean it?” He just paused, then sighed quietly at your response. He was silent for so long that you could practically hear your heart breaking. “Let’s just- forget about it. Pretend it never happened… I’m sorry for saying it in the first place, I shouldn’t have.” Taking in a shaky breath, you realized that your eyes were completely blurry with tears that were on the verge of falling any second now. You quickly sat up and started moving toward the edge of the bed to get up and go to the bathroom, but he stopped you with a hand on your wrist. 

“Where are you going?” 

“…The bathroom?” Your voice trembled embarrassingly, making you feel worse about all of this. When you tried pulling away, his grip tightened, but not enough to actually hurt you. 

“Yes.” He said, voice strained. 

“What?” 

“I… I want you to have meant it.”  

“You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better,”

“I’m not.” He said firmly, cutting you off. “I- I… feel the same.” You turned back around and he looked down once he met your gaze. You’ve never heard him stumble over his words like this. 

“Are you fucking with me?” Your tone was harsher now, a warning. If he was lying or making fun of you… you’re not afraid to go find your wristband with his toxin and use it on him. 

“Do you really think I would do that?” He scoffed in what might’ve been amusement.

“Answer me.”

“No, I’m not.” He sighed. “I just— Don’t expect me to be able to say it. I haven’t since I was a child.” The thought made you frown. He probably didn’t say it to his family as a child based on what he told you, but he’s never had anyone in his adult life that he felt that way about?

“You’ve never had any girlfriends or anything?” You asked, trying to get rid of your frown so he didn’t take it the wrong way. 

“Believe it or not, I wasn’t very popular with women. I’m still not.” Even though part of you can believe that, another part is just completely surprised that he hasn’t had one girlfriend. 

“How?? You’re smart and kinky and funny and kind and pretty and you have fluffy hair. How has no one been interested?” His cheeks turned pink and he looked away from you again. 

“Most people don’t agree with my… line of work.” 

“I see… Well that’s their loss.” You shrugged, making the corners of his lips turn up. 

“You think I’m pretty?” He suddenly asked, making you smile. 

“I think you’re very pretty.” You crawled toward him and moved the papers away so you could sit on his lap, his hands lightly holding your hips. “Your lips are so pink and soft,” You said quietly, cupping his cheek and trailing your thumb over them, “and I don’t even know how it’s possible to have bone structure like this.” You softly trailed your fingers over his cheekbones, staring at them in awe and feeling how warm his cheeks were getting. “And you have freckles. They’re really faint, but I like them a lot.” You brushed your fingers across his nose and cheeks, following the path of freckles. 

“Your eyes are pretty too.” You gently removed his glasses and set them on top of the papers. “Mesmerizing.” You muttered, absentmindedly, as your gaze shifted between his eyes. He looked away from you, snapping you out of the trance you were in. 

“Why do you think I had such a big crush on you after we first met?” You chuckled, making him look at you again. 

“You did?”

“Yes, you dork. Honestly, it was a little embarrassing. You made me so nervous.” Now it was your turn to blush a little. 

“I thought you were just nervous because of the.. usual topic of our discussions.” 

“It was a bit of both.” There was a lull in the conversation, so you decided to change the subject. “You know what else I think is pretty?” He didn’t give you a verbal response, trying to seem nonchalant about it. Placing your hands on his chest, you snaked them down his stomach to his pants, teasing the waistband. “Your cock.” You smirked, carefully studying his reaction. Which was worth it because for half a second, he was flustered and surprised before he schooled his face into a more neutral expression. 

“How on earth can that be pretty?” He scoffed, cheeks glowing red now. 

“You tell me, doctor.” You said teasingly. His hands started dragging down your thighs, then back up to your hips. “How about I compliment it properly, hm?” You moved down to sit over his thighs and grabbed the waistband of his sweatpants, waiting for him to stop you, but he never did. So you kept going, only pulling them down to his mid thigh. 

It didn’t take long for you to stroke him to full hardness as you laid on your stomach between his legs. When you kissed the tip of his cock and licked up the bead of precum, he let out a shaky breath and placed a gentle hand on the back of your head. 

“You get so pink,” you said quietly, mouthing at the head of his cock, “and there’s this vein down here,” you licked a long stripe up the bottom of his cock, over the vein, “it’s so fucking hot.” You whispered. Glancing up at him, you noticed that his cheeks were even more red now as he stared down at you in almost awe. 

Wanting to tease him, you kissed down his cock until you reached his balls and started licking and kissing them gently. Your hand was still holding his cock, but it was unmoving. When his hips bucked, you couldn’t help but smirk against him. 

“Be patient, Jon.” You reprimanded softly. 

“Stop being a tease.” He said through a breath, making you pull away with a pout. 

“Jonny, please just let me take my time. Haven’t had you in my mouth in so long.” You whined, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. He cursed under his breath and let his head fall back until it hit the headboard quietly. 

“Stop calling me that.” The weak demand was the only protest you got, so you leaned back down to continue. 

“But I like calling you Jonny. Makes your face so red.” You giggled quietly, barely pulling away to speak. As you mouthed at his balls, he threaded his fingers through your hair and lightly grabbed it, not moving you at all though. 

“Red from annoyance maybe.” He grumbled, making you smile. When you sucked one of his balls in your mouth, his breath caught in his throat and his grip tightened just the slightest amount. You released his cock, letting it rest on his stomach, and he huffed as the barest amount of stimulation went to no stimulation. You pulled off with a wet pop and looked up at him through your lashes. 

“Are you sure, Jonny?” You asked innocently, but your grin turned outright devious when his cock twitched on his stomach. He rolled his eyes with a scoff. 

“That means nothing.” He muttered, gently pushing your head back down. You decided to give him a break from the teasing and focus on the task at hand. Sucking the other one in your mouth, you picked up his cock and stroked slowly, forcing a shaky breath out of him as he ran his fingers through your hair, letting you have full control. If he keeps acting like this, you’re going to get on a total power trip— especially after the last time you had sex. Maybe not a dominant power trip, but a power trip nonetheless. 

You continued licking and kissing and sucking, all while slowly stroking him and savoring his soft sounds. After another moment, you decided to kiss back up his cock until you reached the tip. When you licked the bead of precum, he cursed under his breath and you smiled to yourself, licking the head of his cock again just to tease him. 

“C’mon.” He urged quietly, not yet forcing you though. When you held the base of his cock and mouthed at the tip, he all but whined as he squirmed under you. “Please, little one.” You barely heard it, but you knew you didn’t hallucinate it. 

“You’re being so patient, Jonny.” You said proudly, making his cock jump in your hand. “I promise I’ll start soon, I just wanna enjoy this first.” He let out a quiet sigh when you continued licking and sucking on the tip, never going any lower. 

“Baby, please.” He whined, making you moan around him. Something about that pet name is just different than the others and you couldn’t help but give in. 

“Okay, Jonny.” You gave him a small smile before leaning back down and wrapping your lips around him, immediately taking him half way. Your hand stayed at the base as you bobbed up and down. 

“Fuck… Good girl.” He said through a breath. His fingers threaded through your hair again, but he didn’t take control yet. When your hand slipped down to cup his balls and you took him deeper in your mouth, he let out a choked moan as his hips flinched up, making you gag. He didn’t verbally apologize, he just brought his other hand up to gently pet your head as you continued. 

You took him deeper and deeper each time until his cock was hitting the back of your mouth. When you reached up and put your hand on top of the one he had in your hair, pushing down on it, he cursed under his breath, but complied eagerly. His cock breached your throat barrier and you choked as he let out a low groan. 

“So fucking good.” He groaned and if you were able to make any sounds, you would’ve whined at the praise. He pulled you off and let you catch your breath. While you panted, you stroked his cock, looking up at him and he cursed under his breath at the sight of you, then moved you back onto his cock. 

He fucked your throat slowly, but pushed you all the way down everytime, making you gag as saliva and tears started building up. When he pushed you down and held you there, you tried to control your gag reflex so you could stay like this, but you weren’t successful. You couldn’t pull off so you placed your hands on his thighs and tried harder, but he just grabbed your hand in his free one and held it, letting you squeeze to ground yourself. 

He removed the pressure and you shot up with a gasp, trying to calm down quickly so you could keep going. His thumb was rubbing back and forth on your hand, soothing you while simultaneously making your stomach flutter. 

“Come up here, little one.” He said softly, making you frown. 

“But ‘m not done.” You pouted, making the corners of his lips turn up into a small smile. 

“I know, darling, but I don’t want to come in your mouth.” His tone was far too sweet for the words that left his mouth. You glanced at his cock with a blush, then looked back up at him and nodded. 

“Okay.” You got up on your knees and started pushing his shirt up, making him stiffen a little. When you reached his chest, you told him to take it off and he obeyed. Instead of settling on his lap, you stayed between his legs and snaked your hands back down his torso. The scars littering his body made you frown, especially now that you knew where most of them were from. When you leaned down to kiss one, his body went completely stiff under you, making you pause. 

“What are you doing?” His tone was guarded and a little harsh, and you faltered. 

“I- I’m sorry. I don’t have to.” You said quietly, pulling away more to look up at him. He stared down at you with apprehension, looking like he was having an internal battle in his mind about what he wanted. Even after he relaxed a little, you still waited, only moving when he gave you a small nod. 

You just barely pressed your lips to the raised skin, still worried you were making him uncomfortable. When he didn’t go stiff or push you away, you continued. You kissed most of the scars on his stomach, going up to his chest. You reached the highest one, just below his collar bone, and finally straddled his legs. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you leaned down to kiss him and his hands settled on your hips. 

One of his hands snaked over your stomach and down until he reached your underwear. He slipped his hand inside and cursed under his breath at your obvious arousal. When he started rubbing slow circles on your clit, you whined into the kiss and squirmed on his lap. 

“Fuck me.” You whispered, making his grip tighten on your hip. 

“You’re not ready yet.” He replied, just as quietly, then started trailing kisses over your jaw and down to your neck to darken the fading bruises. 

“Please, Jonny… s’too empty.” You whimpered, grinding against his hand. 

“Soon, little one.” You huffed and he bit down on your skin, making you wince, but grind harder against him. He slipped your shirt over your head, then leaned forward, taking your nipple in his mouth and sucking gently. 

“Please— ‘m ready…” You whined. All he did was switch to the other nipple to give it the same treatment. When he finally pulled back and removed his hand, you threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling lightly. He suddenly grabbed your panties with both hands and ripped them clean off your body, making you gasp out a moan. 

“I liked those…” You whined, pouting. 

“I’ll buy you more.” He didn’t actually roll his eyes, but his tone made it seem like he was about to. When he lined his cock up with your entrance, your breath caught in your throat and you waited anxiously. “Relax.” He whispered, pulling you down to kiss you again. Your body obeyed and as soon as he felt your muscles loosen up, he pulled you down onto him, making you both moan into the kiss. It was still a little tight, and there was a faint burning sensation, but it satisfied every part of you that was needing to feel full. 

He started pulling your hips forward and back, rocking you against him slowly until you picked up the pace on your own. When he pulled away from the kiss, you whined, but he ignored you and just brushed your hair out of your face, then cupped your cheek. 

“Say it again.” He said through a breath, making you furrow your brows in confusion. 

“What?” 

“Say it. Please.” His eyes bored into yours with an almost desperate look that you weren’t used to, that’s when it finally clicked. You stared down at him, trying to ignore the overwhelming feeling of his cock inside you and focus on getting the words out, but it was hard. Even though you’re the more vulnerable one in this relationship, you’re still not used to it. 

“I—” You choked out, unable to finish. 

“Please, little one.” He whispered, squeezing your hip a little harder. So you took a deep breath and tried again. 

“I love you,” The words were still foreign on your tongue. He let out a shaky breath and pulled you back down into a kiss, making you moan at the suddenness. 

“Again.” He mumbled against your lips. 

“I love you.” Your movements were growing more eager and he moved his hand down to rub your clit, bringing you closer to the edge. “I love you, Jon.” He had to separate from the kiss as he panted, but he kept his forehead pressed to yours. 

“I—” He started, making your heart skip a beat. But his breathing quickly grew more labored and you could tell it was out of anxiety rather than arousal. 

“I know. You don’t have to say it yet.” You whispered, even though your entire being was craving the opposite. He didn’t seem convinced that that was enough, so you added, “I love you too.” 

Too. 

Because he loves you. 

He loves you and you love him too. 

Your orgasm hit you suddenly and you moaned and whined as you writhed in his lap. His eyes fluttered shut and his grip got even tighter on your hip as his release crashed over him. Through the almost intense orgasm, you could feel hot come painting your walls, adding to your already overwhelming pleasure. When it finally passed and you were both panting, he pushed your hair that had fallen forward out of your face and cupped your cheek again, running his thumb over your bottom lip. 

“Do you really mean it?” He asked quietly, looking up at you nervously. You moved your hands from his hair to the sides of his head and held him there gently, not letting him look away. 

“Yes. More than anything.” You whispered, watching his eyes flutter as he swallowed thickly. “Do you really mean it?” 

“Yes.” He didn’t even hesitate this time. 

Part 13

Taglist (join here)

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[its-elioo]

A/n: Wanted to write a one-shot about one of Celine and Dogday's bonding moments.

Story occurs after he was saved and she put his body all back together.

Idk if Dogday is a little bit ooc here but I tried my best.

Probably missed some grammar mistakes.

Their relationship is completely platonic.

Slight mentions of trauma.

Hurt/comfort

Sun and cloud duo 🌤️

»»------------- ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ -------------««

While the girl placed several fluffy pillows and thick blankets on the floor, her most loyal and newest friend Dogday watched closely from behind in a kneeled position. In the meantime, Kissy Missy and Poppy scurried around the factory, searching for any additional soft materials to enhance their sleeping spot. As the human kept on making a giant comfortable bed, Dogday spoke out of the blue, “You know… I never really got your actual name, Angel.”

She smirked, “I thought the nickname you gave me was going to be my official one from now on.” Dogday glanced away in embarrassment and the female slightly patted his arm to reassure him, “Hey, it’s alright, I like it. It’s sweet.” she replied with a soft smile which caused the tall canine to turn his face towards her again, ears perking up by her gentle tone, “But to answer your question-“ she continued and kept on arranging the pillows, “It’s Ci, short for Celine.” he tilted his head at her in wonder as he listened, “I prefer the nickname more because it’s easier and sounds less formal but… It doesn’t matter to me what you decide to call me.”

The mascot dog stared at the ground for a minute, as if he was in deep thought, his tail wagged back and forth when he repeated her name in a whisper, “Celine…”

All of a sudden, he let out a low chuckle. The human rolled her eyes at him, “Oh, c’mon. It’s not that bad.”

“No, no…” the smiling critter replied, waving his paws, “It’s just- it makes so much sense now.”

Celine raised her eyebrow in confusion, “I don’t follow, big guy.”

“Heavenly.” he spoke, “That’s what it means…” the girl was looking at him in surprise due to the information she just received. She never realized the significance of her name until now. Dogday responded with a warmer voice, ”Guess you really are an Angel that has come from above to save us.”

She shook her head and her lips faintly curved up, “Nah, just a regular human. But thanks for the compliment.” when she made the final touches, she lifted herself and wiped her hands, “Alright, think it’s finally done. Care to try it out first?” she directed to the puddle of softness on the floor and the giant orange dog gladly accepted the offer. He made a big stretch and moved to it on all fours. As he observed it and walked in a circle, he finally settled down, “So? What do you think?” she asked out of curiosity.

“I must admit… it is very comfortable.” he replied softly and sighed, he definitely looked more relaxed, “Thank you, Angel. You didn’t have to.”

Celine shook her finger, “Ah, ah, ah. None of that.” she took one of the blankets, “You really thought I’m going to let you sleep on the cold ground? Not a chance.” afterwards, she put it on top of him and reached out a tentative hand to scratch him behind the ear, feeling the softness of his fur under her fingertips, “Take a rest, D.D. You need it.”

After being treated so cruelly by the feline he once called his best friend, he never expected someone to show him such kindness and compassion. He melted into her touch, feeling comforted and safe for the first time in a long while.

To Dogday’s surprise, his savior got up and headed towards the doorway, the canine immediately lifted his head and ears, “Wh-Where are you going?” he questioned apprehensively, near to the point of letting out his pleading whine for her to stay.

“I will keep on watch for Catnap.” she said and put her hand on the handle, but before she could open it-

“The whole time…?” he asked with a mix of confusion and desperation, grabbing her attention again. A wave of panic and loneliness washed over him. He wanted to run after her, to beg her not to leave him alone, a huge sense of abandonment weighed heavily on his heart, mind racing with doubts and fears. What if she didn't come back? What if something happened to her out there?

She shifted her gaze towards him, “Well, one of us has to stay alerted.” the poor dog stared at her with a pair of sorrowful pitch-black eyes, tail thumping against the tile floor, eagerly yearning for her attention with its mournful expression.

The smiling critter thought for a moment until an idea popped into his mind, “I-I can listen for him while we are both asleep.” he suggested timidly, hoping his offer would be considered.

Celine crossed her hands with a hint of skepticism evident on her face, “You can do that?”

“It’s a small ability we dogs have.” Dogday admitted sheepishly, “Don’t worry, I will wake you up the second I hear someone approaching. Besides, you need rest as much as I do.” his human companion hummed back and wondered about his proposal.

Muttering under her breath, she rubbed the back of her neck and glanced away, “It has been some time since I took a proper break…” a desire for relaxation and peace seemed to envelop her, the weight of exhaustion settling on her shoulders. After a few seconds, she sighed in defeat, “Okay then, I’m counting on you.” the canine’s tail began to sway in joyful anticipation, scooting away to give some space as she made her way over. Dogday laid his head on his big paws while watching with a tender gaze how she was getting comfortable closely beside him. Celine rested her head on one of the plush cushions and let out a weary exhale, “Can’t believe I fell for the puppy eyes again…” she playfully remarked and rubbed her temple, the large pooch chuckled slightly at her comment, “You wanted a cuddle buddy, didn’t you?” she teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“Maybe…” he murmured in embarrassment.

She laughed and gently caressed his paw, “Just don’t let me sleep for too long, okay?”

“Of course.” he responded with a gentle nod, his action a silent vow, “You have my word.” once affirming with sincerity, she nestled her face into the pillow and closed her eyes, embracing the familiar warmth and sweet vanilla scent emanating from the mascot's body.

As Dogday stared at her for a minute, protective instincts stirred deep within him. Very slowly and cautiously, he lifted one of his paws and wrapped it around her in a shielding gesture, “Sweet dreams, little Angel.” whether it was his imagination or not, he was the only one who could see the shimmering halo hovering above her head and the feathery white wings resting on her back.

A profound bond existed between them – he, her devoted guard dog, and she, his cherished angel, forever intertwined in a unique and heartfelt connection.

»»------------- ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ -------------««

#dogday #poppy playtime #poppy playtime dogday #poppy playtime oc #dogday poppy playtime #poppy playtime 3 #poppy playtime chapter 3 #oc #original character #oneshot #alternate universe #au #poppy playtime au

[c-t-r-l14]

Special

“I wish I was special

I gave all my special

Away to a loser

Now I’m just a loser.”

—————————💔————————-

Synopsis: You refuse to go out quietly.

This is the second part to Session 32.

———————————💔————————-

In all of his panic, it took Alex a couple of seconds to notice that the drawers to the dressers were ajar and the suitcases with your clothes inside. You saw his eyes widen as the realization hit, but the feeling of incredulity made him ask one singular question:

“W-Where are you going?”

The quiver in his voice made you die inside, and yet you kept you voice low, and your tone firm and flat.

“Away,” You simply replied, “I’m moving out.”

…….

He simply stared at you—his doe eyes wide with hurt and distress. His stare burned into your own, and it was painful to look at him. Despite that, you kept your expression neutral, and your back firm and straight. You made sure your face didn’t show your true feelings.

“Right now? Why?” He inquired.

“Because we broke up. There’s no reason to stay anymore, so I’m leaving,” You simply answered, and you continued packing your stuff.

“I just—I guess I didn’t think that you’d leave so soon…I thought that maybe you were gonna stay a bit longer.”

“Why?”

“Well, I haven’t even started packing yet—I don’t leave ‘till February 16th and I still got a whole lot of paperwork to sort out and everything before I go. So, I just thought that we’d have a little bit of time left to sort this—”

“Well, you thought wrong.”

You felt Alex’s gaze as you continued to pack. You can feel as he was trying his best to contemplate what exactly was going on right now. Your short, curt responses and air of indifference was clearly bothering him, and you could tell that he didn’t know what to do.

“Okay—what is your problem??” he asked, annoyance and confusion evident in his tone, “You’ve been gone for days, you haven’t been answering any of my messages—”

“Why are you acting like you didn’t know where I was? I sent you a text. I told you where I was and who I was with.”

“Yeah you did, but I—“

“Okay, so stop acting like I didn’t. I needed some time away from you. Who I was with and my location was all the information you needed.”

“What is with you?? It’s the first time I’ve seen you in days, and all I’ve been greeted with is a bad attitude, a suitcase filled with clothes, and you telling me you’re leaving!”

You could hear the frustration in his voice, and even though you weren’t looking at him, you could practically feel the pain in his eyes. You continued to pack regardless.

“Yep, sounds about right,” you responded non-cholantly, “I got my girl Solana downstairs with the car. When I’m ready to go, she’s gonna drop me off at my mom’s house. Denise, Kimahri, and Dehlani are gonna be here in a couple of days for winter break, and they’ve agreed to help me pack up the rest of my stuff—Oh! I already told our Super that I’m moving too, he told me that I still have to pay my part of the rent—”

“Wait—Wait. Other people know about this?? You’ve had this whole thing sorted out already?” He asked incredulously.

That question confused you a little. Did he think you were at your mom’s house only for moral support?

“Shouldn’t it be obvious, Alex?” you sighed as you put a pair of pants in your suitcase, “I literally just mentioned the people who’ll be helping me move.”

“How come I was the last to know about it, though???”

You stopped packing, and turned your head in his direction and just stared. Your expression of neutrality was no more; your brows were raised and your eyes were wide with pure astonishment. You stared at his knitted brows, and the wrinkles on his forehead that were creased with worry. You stared at his glassy, doe eyes—and saw the hurt and pain they beheld behind the color of burnt sienna. His whole face held an expression of betrayal, agony, and bewilderment.

Oh, the irony.

“Yeah well, it doesn’t feel good now, doesn’t it Alex?” you sneered, trying your best to keep your voice low, “Being the last to know about shit you really SHOULD know about REALLY bites the big one, doesn’t it??”

“Oh my GOD, here we GO,” Alex groaned as he rolled his eyes.

“Oh what?? You’re mad now ‘cause you’re feeling what I felt that day??”

“(Y/N), How in the HELL did you expect me to tell you about the job offer if you couldn’t even handle me working with Natalie?? You looked through my phone, accused me of cheating, and expected me to not be at least a little bit hesitant about telling you?? And it seems like you STILL aren’t handling it well now, considering how you’re just ready to get up and leave!”

You faltered a little bit. Some of the things he said weren’t wrong. You lost your cool and made some very stupid decisions and it definitely wasn’t your proudest moment. Usually, when situations arose, you made sure to keep your feelings in check and be more logical and rational about things. But you were so worried that another person you loved would leave you for someone else. But that still wasn’t an excuse. And there was definetly a better way of communicating how you felt—one that didn’t involve you going through his phone and making stupid accusations.

“Look. I understand that you were hurt and surprised about what happened. I know what I did was wrong. I violated your privacy, and accused of shit you didn’t do, and I will always be sorry for that. I’m usually not like that—“

“I know,” he interjected.

“That’s the thing—you know! You know that I’m usually calmer. You know that I’m usually level headed. What I did was dumb, yes—but I would think that the one time I lose my cool and do something stupid wouldn’t be my defining characteristic!“

“It’s not!”

“Well you sure acted like it was when you made up that fuckass excuse—talkin’ ‘bout how you ‘thought you knew me,’ Alex. We were together for four years—and you me know better than anyone.”

You sighed.

“I’m not angry because you want to move to New York. It’s where your dream job is, and you should totally go for it. I’m angry because you tried to get rid of ME in the process.”

Alex’s eyes widened.

“What?” He gasped.

“It was so obvious that you’ve mentally checked out of this relationship long ago—and even more obvious that you’ve had your mind made up from the jump. And that’s comepletely fine. Sometimes, relationships don’t last forever…”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You tried your best to hold it together.

“But the way you ended things between us was absolutely trifiling!!”

And it was true—that’s how you felt. You weren’t angry at him for leaving you. You weren’t angry that he wanted to go to New York. You were angry with the way he broke up with you—because the things he said that day didn’t make a lick of sense.

“I—I ended things for BOTH of our sakes! I did it because I love you!”

You couldn’t help but scoff at that statement. It took everything in your power not to roll your eyes.

“You did it because you wanted me GONE.”

“Wha—I can’t believe you’d say—”

“During the whole time you broke up with me, all you did was blame me for everything and make excuses, Alex! You say I’m not the right person to handle long distance—“

“Oh my GOD, there you go AGAIN with the assumptions!”

“Alex, how in the HELL did you expect me to take that??? You were most definitely alluding to it, don’t play with me!”

“I wasn’t—”

“If you weren’t alluding to it, then there was no reason to say it in the first place! If you really wanted to leave then that’s fine—but don’t get mad at me and accuse me of ‘jUmpiNG tO ConCLUsiONS’ when you say outta pocket shit like that! Especially since I ended up being right about you wanting to leave me in the first place!!!”

Your heart felt like it was about to leap out of your chest and your lungs were on fire. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, and your throat closing up. You just wanted all of this to be over. Having this conversation hurt too much. And suddenly, you found yourself wishing for the hollowness that had once consumed your body to come back. You were in too much pain. You’d rather feel nothing at all. This was so damn difficult to do.

But anything worth doing is hard.

So you took in a deep, quivering breath and let it out slowly. You blinked back the tears that threatened to fall, and you cleared your throat.

“You talked about how much this hurts you—how much it hurts to leave me, but it really doesn’t feel that way. You talk about how much you love me, but I feel like if you loved me as much as you said you did, then you would’ve at least tried to make this work, Alex. I KNOW how you are. You put your all into everything—into volleyball, into photography, and yet you couldn’t even muster up a little bit of effort to try and keep relationship going. You couldn’t muster up any effort, despite you telling me how much you loved me. So like hell, you do Alex. Like hell.”

You let the tears flow. There was no use in stopping them now. But despite that, you still continue on. A shaky sigh passed through your lips.

“I’m not mad that you want to leave. I’m not mad that you wanna pursue your dreams. But don’t tell me that I’m the love of your life and then do everything in your power to leave me behind! Nobody who claims to love someone as much as you do would be so blatantly dishonest! Your actions don’t match your words and it’s sickening!!”

You didn’t hide the quiver in your voice. You wanted him to hear the pain in it. You continued still, despite how horse your voice had become.

“I tried everything in my power to make things work, because I love you. I know I did wrong, and I’ll own up to that every single time. But do NOT put all the blame on me just because YOU don’t wanna be with me anymore! You are NOT completely blameless in all of this, and I’m sick and tired of you acting like you are!”

Your heart was pounding so loudly you could hear it in your ears. But you continued still.

“And I’ll be DAMNED if I let you go to New York thinking that what you did was even REMOTELY okay! You can’t just pull me out of your life with excuses and flowery words and cast me away whenever it suits you! I will NOT go out quietly, Alex! You will hear my mouth, and I want you to know that what you did was trifling!!”

Another shaky breath. In and out.

“If you had any love or respect for me at all, then you would’ve been straight up with me from the jump. There would’ve been no need for excuses or pointing fingers if you were just honest, Alex. I don’t know what was going through your head that day, but I’m telling you, I haven’t felt less human than in that moment, and I will NOT let you have the luxuary of living your best life in New York—not when you don’t understand what you’ve done wrong!”

Your eyes met his. They were as red and glassy as your own.

“I’m giving you a chance to break up with me the correct way. I want you to be honest. I want you to realize what you’ve done wrong. I want you to tell me straight up. No lies. No B.S. Please.”

A long, suffocating silence ensued. But Alex never said a word. He’d open his mouth, but nothing would come out—almost like the words would get caught in his throat before melting away. And whenever that happened he closed it. He did this for a good while—and each time, you waited for a response. And it felt like you were waiting forever.

But after what felt like an eternity, he simply hung his head and closed his mouth. He didn’t open it back up again. He didn’t have anything to say.

You couldn’t believe it. You were honest on the day he broke up with you, because that’s what he asked of you—and you felt like thats what he deserved. You were honest about where you were and who you were with when you left the apartment because thats what he deserved. You’ve been honest throughout this entire conversation. You poured your heart out to him, and told him how he made you feel, because thats what he deserved. And EVEN after all of that, he still wasn’t man enough to be honest with you. It was bad enough that your relationship was crumbling before your very eyes. It was even more terrible that you were losing him.

But you were literally giving him the oppurtunity to be honest with you right now, and he still wouldn’t take it. You weren’t even worthy enough for the truth.

That revelation cut deep. And it hurt so damn much.

And that hurt made you ANGRY.

“Forget it,” You growled, turning your attention back to your suitcase, “I should’ve known better than to ask a man who has such a hard time being honest to tell me the truth.”

He lifted his head as you began to pack.

“The craziest thing about this was how much you wanted me to be truthful to you on the day we broke up. You told me that trust is something that is crucial in a relationship, but I don’t know how you expect me to trust you when you can’t even practice what you preach. Integrity and effort is what keeps a relationship going, and you clearly lack BOTH of those things. I suggest you grow a fucking backbone and quick,”—You looked him directly in the eyes—“Or don’t be surprised when all of your future relationships end up like ours did.”

He didn’t say anything. He merely walked quietly out of the room.

………

You rolled your suitcase out of the bedroom. You wanted nothing more than to get out of this apartment and away from him.

“I’ll be back next Tuesday with my friends to pick up the rest of my stuff.”

You turned around and saw him standing there, right by the couch. He stared at you, eyes red and wide. His eyebrows knitted—creased with worry. And that same hurt and pain that was beheld behind the color of burnt sienna.

But you didn’t feel anything this time.

You opened the door.

“Goodbye, Alex. Hope your passion keeps you fucking warm at night.”

You walked out of that apartment—leaving Alex with nothing but a hollow feeling in his gut and the loud slam of the door ringing in his ears.

———————————💔———————————-

A/N: Good GOD, ya’ll. This was probably one of the most difficult fics I’ve ever written because it has so much dialogue in it!

I’m so sorry for the wait, ya’ll. But writing for Alex is actually really friggin’ exhausting because of how pissed he makes me. There will be more stories with Alex in them, but they will be spread few and far in between!

Also, sorry that’s so damn long💀 I didn’t wanna break it up into a third part because that’d be just stupid.

I hope ya’ll like it!

(And before any of ya’ll ask, YES, Kimahri was named after Saku’s pet cat.)

@tranquility-base-casino

Masterlist

#sakuverse #zsakuva #alex zsakuva #alex x reader #he needed to be put in his place #reminding ya’ll yet again that alex is the absolute worst and deserves nothing in life #he makes me so angry #zsakuva x reader

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

The Temptation Chapter 1

Here's the Priest!Bucky fic! I hope y'all like it. Warnings: eventual smut; religion (yes it's a warning); mentions of past sexual assault

“Father Barnes, I have some unfortunate news.”

Bucky turned towards his senior priest, Father Richards.  “Yes?”

“Constance Y/L/N has just passed away.”

“Oh,” Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed as he processed the news.  “How sad.  I mean, she was getting up there in age but, still, a great loss.”

“Yes, it is.  Her funeral arrangements will be handled by her granddaughter, Y/N Y/L/N.  She should be landing into town tomorrow, I was hoping you would be willing to pick her up at the airport and bring her to Constance’s home, then schedule a meeting about the arrangements and the service?”

“Of course, Father.”

That’s where Bucky found himself now, waiting in the baggage claim area of the airport with a sign in his hand that had her name written on it.  He had no idea what she looked like or knew anything about her.  As he looked around, waiting patiently, a woman came through the door that made him do a double take.  She was beautiful, short and curvy, dressed in a long black dress that she kept stepping on, covered by an oversized, long, black and ripped sweatshirt that read “WOMEN RUN SHIT” in red embroidery, Converse sneakers that peeked from under her dress, with long pointy nails and her pink hair piled atop her head, held up by a black scarf.  She had very little makeup on except for a dark, blood red lipstick that Bucky couldn’t seem to stop staring at.  She looked around until her eyes fell on Bucky, read the sign, and gave him a polite smile as she headed towards him.  Bucky gave her a polite smile back as he tried to hide the panic he was feeling inside.   

“Father Barnes?” Y/N asked as she approached him.

“Yes, Y/N Y/L/N?”

“That’s me,” she flashed him a full smile, making her teeth look stark against her lipstick.  

“Is this all you have?” Bucky asked, looking at the purse and backpack slung over her shoulders and the large rolling suitcase she had.

“Yep, don’t have much.  Thank you for the ride.  I haven’t been to Brooklyn since I was a kid and I just didn’t wanna deal with the hassle of a taxi or Uber.”

“It’s no problem.”

Bucky tried hard to not stare at her or even look at her too much.  He had been a priest at his parish for 15 years, and had never had a moment where he felt like he was being led astray, like he’d always been warned about during his seminary years.  He felt secure in his promises and covenants to the church and to God.  And yet here was this woman, who just waltzed into his life on a chance, who he was feeling something very strange towards that made him question his life.  And he didn’t even know her.  Sinful.

“So what do you do for a living?” Bucky tried to break the ice as he drove silently, weaving through the New York traffic as best as he could.

“I’m a traveling photographer,” Y/N said as she watched the buildings and bridges fly by.  

“Really?  That’s interesting.  How did you get into that?” he asked.

“Um, it just kinda fell into my lap, I guess,” Y/N answered, giving him a glance.  “I grew up in Brooklyn, went to the church and everything with my grandmother, but at 16 I decided it wasn’t for me and went through a bit of a rough patch for a while.  Started taking pictures as I went from place to place, posting online, and gained a following.  Here I am, 16 years later, getting paid to go places and take pictures and give travel advice.”

“Wow,” Bucky breathed.  “Where’s your favorite place you’ve been?

“Well, traveling as a plus sized person has its challenges,” she started, shifting in her seat.  “The place that I felt most comfortable was the Leeward Islands, so Bora Bora, Tahiti, those areas of French Polynesia.”

“Very tropical,” Bucky commented.

“Ha, yes,” she giggled.  “A big reason why I loved it.”  She paused and looked at him.  “Have you ever been on a beach like that?”

“No,” Bucky answered.  “A beach at a lake when I was a kid, but nothing quite as pretty as crystal blue waters,” he glanced at her, giving her a lopsided smile.

“Hm,” Y/N watched him, a sad expression flitting across her face.  “That’s too bad.  There’s really nothing like it.”  She paused again, a mischievous grin pulling at her lips.  “A pretty thing like you on a sandy beach in Bora Bora would do wonders with the locals.”

Bucky’s eyes widened at her compliment.  He cleared his throat and swallowed as he tried to relax the blush that filled his cheeks.  “Thank you for the compliment.”

“Anytime, handsome,” she teased him, huffing out a laugh at his expense.

Bucky wasn’t blind to the fact that he had attractive features.  He’d been hit on too many times to count by the women, and some of the men, in his congregation throughout the years.  Some tried harder than others, the idea of a forbidden love or lust-driven “corrupting the priest” sounding appealing.  He’d been able to squash those easily.  He could of course see or recognize when people were attractive, and occasionally had the fleeting thought of “what if?”  But it sounded different coming from her for some reason.  

“I mean really, if the priests looked like you when I was in church I would have paid more attention.”

She said it in such a deadpan tone that Bucky couldn’t help but to fully laugh.  She joined him in laughing as they finally pulled up to her grandmother’s brownstone home.  Bucky helped her hoist her large luggage up the stairs.  Y/N grabbed the key from the hidden spot that the estate lawyer had told her about and let herself and Bucky in.  She wheeled the luggage off to the side as she looked around the foyer.

“Almost exactly the same,” she muttered.

“Y/N–”

“You know, it’s just very strange for me to call you Father,” Y/N interrupted him as she whirled around to face him.  “What’s your first name?”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up.  “Oh, um, it’s James, but I always went by Bucky.”

“Bucky?” Y/N repeated it, looking confused.

Bucky silently reveled in how she said his name.  “My middle name is Buchanan, don’t ask me why,” he joked, making her snort.  “Bucky for short.  I just always went by that rather than James when I was younger.”

“Well is it alright if I call you Bucky?” Y/N asked hopefully.

Bucky really should have said no, that it’s not appropriate for people to call him by his name rather than his title.  Yet he found himself saying, “Yes.”

“Great.  I’m sorry I interrupted you, what were you going to say?” 

“Well, my senior priest, Father Richards and I would like to set up a meeting with you to go over the funeral arrangements.  When would you like to do that?”

“Sure, um…” Y/N got distracted by something in the foyer.  Bucky followed her eye line to the large cross her grandmother had mounted above the door.  She sighed heavily before meeting his gaze.  “How about tomorrow?  10 a.m.?”

“That sounds great,” Bucky agreed.  “Well, is there anything else I could help you with while I’m here?”

“No, thank you.  You’ve been very helpful,” Y/N gave him a tight lipped smile.  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Great, see you then.”  Bucky turned away and out the door, unable to handle being in such a close space with her anymore.

As he got back into the parish car and drove back to the church he heaved a heavy sigh of his own.  This is going to be dangerous.

***

The next morning Bucky found himself taking more time to get ready.  He was trimming his beard, redoing his hair in a bun and repeatedly straightening out his Roman collar and his shirt.  He knew why he was doing it but was in deep denial.

Father Richards was waiting in the main office as Bucky went out to the sanctuary to see if Y/N had shown up yet.  When he walked in he easily found her sitting on one of the pews.  Today she wore a long, fluffy cardigan with a sports bra and flowy lounge pants.  She wore no makeup and her hair looked like she’d just rolled out of bed.  

“Good morning, Y/N,” Bucky greeted her as he approached.

Y/N was staring at the large cross at the front of the sanctuary with the statue of Jesus hanging on it.  Her eyes slowly turned to him, a frown on her face that she tried to hide quickly.

“Good morning, Bucky,” she greeted him, her voice sounding scratchy.  “I’m sorry I look a mess, the jet lag is making me feel rough.”

“I understand, it’s alright,” Bucky gestured for her to follow him.

He led her back into the hallways of the church until they reached the main priest’s office.  Y/N paused for a moment outside the office door as Bucky held it open for her, before she inhaled quickly and stepped through the door.

“Miss Y/L/N, my name is Father Richards,” Richards held his hand out, which she stiffly shook.  “I’m sorry we couldn’t meet under more pleasant circumstances.  May I offer my deepest condolences to you.”

“Thank you,” Y/N said somberly.  She sat on the chair in front of the large wooden desk.  Her eyes settled on one scuffed spot on the desk as Father Richards and Bucky sat across from her.

“So, let’s get started,” Father Richards began.  “I’m sure you know your grandmother was a big supporter of the church.  She gave us some of our largest donations over her lifetime.  She had some instructions she left with me but I wanted to make sure everything sounded good to you before I enacted them, or if there was something left in her will that I wasn’t aware of?”

“The will and everything else is stuck in probate court right now,” Y/N answered, her tired eyes trying to focus on him.  “So honestly, whatever she told you is fine.  Doesn’t really matter to me.”

“I see,” Father Richards said, sounding a little annoyed.  Bucky glanced at him.

“Please don’t mistake my indifference for not caring,” Y/N retorted.  “I loved my grandmother, I just didn’t love her religion.  And that caused a rift between us.  I haven’t seen or spoken to her in years, so I was pretty surprised when I got a call from a lawyer in New York telling me she’d died and left me everything,” she continued, her words getting more curt by the second.  “No offense to either of you but me being here is highly triggering.  So is there anything else you need from me?”

“Uh, yes,” Richards tried to recover the conversation, his tone sounding more jovial.  “She did ask that you sing at her funeral.”  

“Absolutely not,” Y/N spat, her eyes narrowing as she minutely shook her head.

“Oh, well, I mean that’s what she wrote here–”

“No.”  

Bucky watched on in concern.  He knew the church came with a lot of baggage for some people, that its history was unclean.  He worried about what this would mean for them as she worked with them for this funeral.

“Hm, of course you don’t have to, but she always said how you had a lovely singing voice–”

“I said no,” she seethed.  “Now if you’ll excuse me,” she stood suddenly, Bucky and Father Richards copying her.  “I need to go.  Just call me if you need something else.”  She rummaged into her cardigan pocket, pulling out a wallet and taking out a business card, flinging it at them on the desk.  “Good day.”

She turned on her heel and hightailed it out of the office.  Father Richards and Bucky exchanged a bewildered look.  “Go,” Father Richards instructed.

Bucky jogged out of the office to catch up to Y/N.  “Y/N, please wait!”

Y/N sighed loudly as she turned back around to Bucky.  “I’m sorry for my rudeness, I just can’t stay here,” she said, continuing to walk away. 

“Hey,” he jogged around her until he faced her.  “Obviously there’s some deep problems you have with the church.”

“No shit Sherlock,” she dodged him, heading towards the front doors.

“And I don’t blame you!” Bucky walked alongside her.  “There have been bad things that have happened in its history.”

Y/N stopped abruptly as she rounded on him.  “To ME!” she pointed a finger towards herself.  Bucky stopped, his eyes widening at her.  She was shaking as she tried to calm herself.  She took a deep breath and a step back from him.  “I appreciate that the church has given you comfort, peace, a purpose maybe, but I grew up here,” she paused, stopping herself from crying.  “Father Carmine was here before you two, right?”  Bucky nodded his head slowly as he watched her.  “He hurt me.”

Bucky felt his heart plummet.  He had met Father Carmine many years ago as he and Father Richards were transferred in to replace him.  He had had an amazing rapport with the community, his congregation seemed to love him.  Now Bucky knew the reason for his sudden retirement.

Y/N scoffed.  “That notch on the desk?  In the office?  That’s from the heel of my shoe,” she took a step closer to him as she peered up at him, a fury in her eyes that made him feel like withering on the spot.  “My Mary Jane shoes, from my school uniform, when I was 15 years old.”  Bucky felt like he was going to throw up as he digested this information.  “So you’ll have to excuse me, if coming here to the place where I was abused and then unbelieved by the woman who raised me who I now have to bury, is dredging up some pretty raw emotions in me right now.”  Y/N was whispering now, her eyes filling with tears as she glared at him.  “Every cross, every Jesus statue, every rosary, every goddamn Roman collar,” her eyes flickered to his neck, “reminds me of that day.  So the fact that my grandmother was willing to still hold her funeral here in this godforsaken place, and then have the audacity to throw her money at me and ask me to sing?”  Y/N shivered violently as she grunted.  “I can’t…”

Bucky didn’t know what to do as he watched her fight off an oncoming panic attack.  “Y/N, hey…look,” he started to take off his Roman collar.  She watched him hesitantly.  “See?  Look, just me.  Not Father Barnes, not Father anything, just Bucky.”  He held his hands up towards her in a sign of meaning no harm.  “Constance was extremely devout, for sure,” Y/N scoffed again, rolling her eyes.  “But that was no excuse for her not to believe you,” he took a step forward.  Y/N’s eyes narrowed at him.  “You deserved to be believed.  You deserved justice, and you never got it.  I’m so sorry,” he took another step until he could reach out and hold her arms.  He lowered his face so he was eye level with her.  “I’m so sorry for what happened to you.  You didn’t deserve it, no one deserves that.” Y/N’s tears finally fell as she shook in his hands.  “And I’m sorry for Father Richards pushing you, he’s a very…no nonsense, regimented kind of guy.  But he should have taken your refusal the first time.”  He squeezed her arms and she took a shaky breath.  “We’ll follow her instructions, get through the funeral, and then you can be done with this place.  And go enjoy a long vacation on a beach in Bora Bora for me.”

Y/N laughed at that, her smile finally breaking the sadness etched in her face.  She wiped her eyes as Bucky dropped his hands from her.  He felt like his palms were stinging from the sensation of touching her.  “Thank you, Bucky,” she sniffed.  

“No problem,” he smiled at her.  “I know this isn’t a great place for you, but I hope you know that I believe you, and I’m here for you.”

Y/N gave him a long look, her eyes roaming his face momentarily.  She nodded and turned to leave, then suddenly turned back around and walked up to him.  She wound her arms around his waist and gave him a hug, squeezing him.  He barely had a chance to hug her back before she stepped away and walked out of the front doors.  Bucky watched her leave, already missing the way she smelled.

**picture if from Pinterest, it's A.I. so there's no "artist" or "creator"**

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #smut #priest!bucky barnes x reader #priest!bucky barnes #chapter 1

[seris-circle]

The Other Woman Pt. II

drew starkey x femreader

Warnings: ER, Pregnancy, Hospitalization, swearing

Sirens blared in the distance as you were wheeled through the emergency department doors. The paramedics were able to calm your nerves on the ride over and you were now nursing the oxygen like it was in unlimited supply. Because of the distress and grand entrance, you became the priority to the medical staff, entering a room immediately. As the nurses began connecting your monitors, your mother took it into her own hands to call drew with your phone, see if that sends a sense of urgency his way. It took about three tries but on the second ring of the third call, there was an answer…

Drew’s POV

The sounds of tourists, shop-goers, and mopeds surround me as I wait for the server to come back around with the food. The shoot was canceled for today, so I wanted to take as a day to just stay in due to the increasing Italian heat but Odessa convinced me to join her and tyler for lunch. I was a bit hesitant due to the call with y/n last night but I’ve spent a comfortable part of my downtime here alone so I might as well enjoy some company.

When we did arrive at the restaurant though, I realized my cell was dead so odessa offered to charge it for me. She took it and connected it to the wireless pod in her bag, keeping it from the sunlight. It wasn’t until after coming out of the bathroom that I heard my ringer go off. When I heard it though it sent me into an immediate panic because I have off for everyone except y/n and seeing as it is 2 am her time didn’t seem right. I walked over as quickly but as casually as possible. Finally reaching the table, i grabbed my phone out of odessa’s bag and answered it.

“Hello?” i answered with a slight confusion as to why y/n would be calling this early/late.

“Drew, this is y/m/n. Why the hell have you not answered your phone?” she said in the most stern mother-in-law tone you could imagine.

“What do mean? Who’s been calling?” I responded, looking down at my notification queue and seeing 5 missed calls from danica and 2 from y/n. “Aw, I just saw. My phone was on silent for everyone except of y/n and i’ve been out to lunch. What's going on?”

“Good to know you still have some priority over your family, but you're going to have to cut that little lunch date short, y/n in the hospital, its the baby.” she continued on the other line.

“What? What do you mean, its too early for anything to be happening?” I began to become frantic over the line.

“That's what we all thought but guess not. So get on the earliest flight you can find before I fly over there myself and get you here because my baby will not go through this without the person that put her in this whole situation.” y/m/n basically was screaming under that whisper at this point.

“Ye- yeah. I’ll see you soon” I choked out. She scoffed before speaking up again, but I hung up without even realizing it. This can’t be happening. I’m not ready, its not time. The baby isn’t ready. My sweet angel can’t come yet, I have to be there to see her and hold y/n hand as she does. y/n. She’s all alone. She can’t do this all alone, without me. I don’t think i could forgive myself. I gather my thoughts and bring myself back to the conversation.

“I need to go now… here’s 20 for my portion of the bill and tell the kitchen crew to toss my food,” I said with slight panic in my tone. I shuffled to put my wallet back in my bag while the others just stared.

“Why the rush, we haven’t even gotten our food yet?” Odessa said. I looked down at her and thought.

“It's y/n. Why didn’t you answer my phone when it rang… twice?” I questioned. She just smirked and shrugged with a sense of guilt. “You know what, it doesn’t matter now. Right now I have to go catch the first flight out to LA before my daughter is born. Bye, thank you for coming, enjoy the city” I tried to get out as I maneuvered my way out of the restaurant.

As soon as i got to my apartment, i booked the first flight out not even realizing I had an hour to catch it. I grabbed all of my “necessities” and booked it out to my uber.

Regular POV

You sat in the small hospital room, strapped up to monitors, and bump out. The doctors had taken the oxygen and gave you something to relieve the stress and calm you down.

“Mamaaaa” you whined out to your mother who was walking back in from her phone call.

“What's up sweetheart?” your mother asked, joining you by your side.

“Where’s drew? Did you get a hold of him?” you said.

“Yes, he is on his way. Don’t worry, I already tore him a new one so don’t stress about yelling at him.” She smiled back at you. You held her hand and had a moment of comfort before a doctor came in.

“Hello hello. I am Dr. Hoffman” the white-coated gentleman introduced himself with a welcoming hand. He proceeded to examine you until speaking up again. “So your scans and blood came back good so nothing too wrong but you are in labor. Baby is in a good position but you are only 2 cm dilated. I’m going to admit you through until you are ready and then we can get this baby out. We will have someone to move you up to our maternity unit and get you more privacy.” Hoffman finished and walked out.

You began to cry, from the pain and the fact that you’re all alone. You have to endure this for however long it takes your body to dilate another 8 cm. Though you were way too emotional from all of that, you knew to not get too worked up because of the stress it would topple onto the pile that your body was already under.

Drew’s POV

Hours have passed and my flight was done. Those 13 hours were horrible. A middle seat between a woman with a crying baby and a guy that slept the whole time. I know it was last minute and all but I feel that the baby was a sign. The worst flight of my life was because of something that I was going into myself, parenthood. You could say it was karma too for not answer my phone. I know how y/n feels about Odessa and sometimes I feel that Odessa’s jealous of me and y/n but I still keep her around. I was pissed at her last night for getting completely obliterated and interrupting y/n and I but I let it go but this afternoon was something else. I felt somewhere deep down she did it purposely. Because of her I could’ve missed the birth of my child and left y/n all by herself. I still could do that because of how late I am.

As soon as I got off that plane, I ran though LAX and outside to get an Uber. I’m running on no sleep, jet lag, and the stress of becoming a parent at any moment. Anyone who gets in my way or even near to delaying me any more would get no mercy.

“LA General and step on it please, I’m about to have a baby” I sort of demanded as I stepped into the Uber. The driver looked at me with sympathy and did as he was told. Hopefully I can make it, time is slipping away.

Regular POV

“Fuuuck!” You screamed out as you reached the end of the hallway. The doctors had you walking for the last 11 hours to get you to 10 cm. What they didn’t do is give you any meds that you felt were working. The contractions were now 2 minutes apart and you felt like this baby was about to fall out of your vagina. You stood crouched in the corner with your mom’s hand in yours. Danica had to leave due to not being immediate family and drew was still no where to be seen.

“Sweetheart… it’s ok, just keeping breathing. I will go get the doctor” your mother reassured as she left you there basically dry heaving from the pain induced nausea. Seconds later you were brought back to your room.

“Guess what mama, you’re about to have your baby. You’re at 9cm which means we can start pushing” your labor and deliver nurse said with a smile. You smiled through your pain but it wasn’t all there. You still didn’t have drew by your side and the baby was a bit to be born.

Minutes later you were all set up and getting ready to push. You did it without an epidural too because it had worn off and it was too late for them to administer another.

“Ready y/n, on three I want you to push with all your strength.” The OB said. You looked at your mom, squeezed her hand and nodded. “1….2…3 push!” You screamed a wide push out. She had you continue. The pain so bad you thought you could have passed out.

When you swore that you were about to black out completely, a larger hand took yours. Slightly callused yet soft. A hand you could know from anywhere. You opened your eyes and were met with Drew’s.

“I told you I would miss this.” Drew said softly tearing up slightly with a smile. You smiled back and held on to his hand tightly.

You let a couple more pushes out and then all you heard were the soft cries of your babygirl.

“It’s a girl! Congratulations mom and dad, she’s gorgeous” the OB said with a smile. The baby was brought to your chest and you and drew took in this moment together. Kissing each other for the first time in weeks with your baby. You both cried so hard, but they were all happy tears. So happy that you had forgave Drew’s late behavior.

“I love you so much” drew said smiling at you. You didn’t say anything, all you did was kiss him.

It had been a couple hours since the baby was born. You were sleeping as drew sat with the baby. You woke up turning to face him. He was sitting there in awe staring at the mini you, rocking back and forth. You knew that he was more in love with her than he would ever be with you and that made you the happiest you had ever been. As you sat up completely, he noticed bringing the newborn towards you. The three of you were together until your mother had walked in with Danica.

“ hello hello hello! My little girl with her little girl” she said coming towards you. She be at done to kiss your cheek.

“Soooo, what is the little bug’s name?” Danica asked looking back and forth between you and drew. You looked at drew, nodding him off to let him say the honors.

“Well… we would like you to meet Isabel Eva Starkey” drew said with the biggest smile. Danica and your mother cried happy tears as they came and hugged you both.

As your stay lasted for the next few days, you welcomed friends and family from both side. You were content now. You had your own little family now and to have drew be apart of that was all you needed.

The End

A/N: I’m so sorry this came out late. I’ve been so swamped with work and genuinely mentally drained. This may not be good because it all just came to me at once and I struggled to organize it. Hopefully you like it and thank you for reading!!!

Tagged: @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @one-sweet-gubler @runningfrom2am @ayoanna @crazyf0robx @brooklynscherry-z @ireadficsthenifallasleep @simpfomarvel @willowalexissss

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #outerbanks rafe #obx s3 #rafe cameron #drew starkey imagine #drama #rafe x reader #drew x y/n

[smolghostbot]

Patchwork Melody - Summer

Part two of the four-part story, the part where Patch and Melody are forced together into their "status quo". Link to part one here. Dashes denote a POV change.

Word Count: 7.2k! I think this is the longest part, but boy it's a little bit long I'm sorry... CWs: The main "conflict" of this chapter is confronting Patch's past abuse. So. Yeah. No explicit details are given for any actions, but kidnapping, physical contact, and scars are mentioned. There's also a brief onset of a panic attack, though it doesn't progress as much as the one in Spring.

Tag list: @gt-daboss @reborrowing

=====

Part 1

Patch stared up at the human, who seemed to have a slightly different eye color (maybe a trick of the light?), but was unmistakably Melody, the human who had allegedly “accidentally” kidnapped them not two weeks prior. The human was wearing a bright yellow sundress, contrasting the somewhat dark and dingy alley… and making it frankly embarrassing that the sprite is just now noticing them. Seriously? This human is big even by their standards, how do they keep sneaking up on me like this!?

While they could try to run, should try to run, they instead felt compelled to give a single small head nod, silently giving the human a chance to say whatever they want. With their arm feeling better, and knowing their enemy this time, they'd be able to escape a bit easier if push came to shove… hopefully.

Melody started off by asking a simple question, "How, uh… I guess you're still hanging around here, huh?", which garnered a simple cautious nod from Patch.

"Oh, cool. Um, have you… been by my door at all? Not like, in a weird way, but…" Melody trailed off, as Patch nodded their head, getting a surprised reaction from Mel.

"Oh! You have! Did you, um, get any of the apples? I was wondering if I was feeding you or just the local rats, y'know…" Patch gave another simple nod, this time accompanied by a soft bow.

"Nice! I'm… glad I could help you out. Is your arm feeling better?" Patch remained still at this question, afraid of giving away their secret defense.

"That's fine, you don't have to answer. So… you don't have to answer this either, but, if you're still around here, maybe we could… meet up again? On better terms. Maybe… tomorrow evening, at sunset. By my porch? We can both sit as far apart as you want and I could maybe just, ask some questions? You don't have to agree now or anything and I totally get it if you don't want to. But I just… I feel this need to make it up to you. I know, I know, I'm acknowledging a debt, but… there is one. I'll, uh, bring snacks, too."

Patch was silent, thinking about this. The human could easily catch up to them again, why would they set a trap like this? Why even lure them back in after freeing them? To savor the betrayal? Was this some kind of long con? No. She didn't know I was here. That face was clearly one of surprise. What's the plan here?

"Okay, well… this alleyway, uh, is kind of dark and sucks, and not super safe for me to just be standing around in… so I'm just… gonna go inside now”, Melody stated, with an air of awkwardness in her tone, as if coming up with an excuse on the spot, “But just… remember what I said. Sunset, front porch."

And with that, Patch watched in curiosity as she walked away from them, again.

The next evening, against their better judgment, the sprite made their way to the apartment door they recognized from the little flower bed outside of it, where they had been abducted previously. Why am I here? I shouldn’t be here… but she did promise food, they reasoned, and food was in short supply at the moment.

Sure enough, Melody was sitting there, on the ground, wearing an outfit similar to when they first met, though the shirt had a different figure on it. Unsure how to make their presence known, Patch walked closer to the human, fear in every step as they looked around, worried not only about Melody spotting them, but any other humans as well. As usual for this area, nobody tended to walk around, which was good. After all, that's why the sprite had set up shop around this building anyways.

Patch's thoughts were interrupted as Melody called out to them, her voice soft yet projecting, "Oh, it's you! You actually showed up!"

Patch awkwardly took a few steps back, keeping well more than a human arm's length between them, which caused the human to sigh softly.

"Okay, if that's where you're comfortable. I promised snacks, so here you go, I was out of apples so I figured a pear slice might be good? To be honest, I don't know what you actually eat… maybe you could tell me, and I could bring that next time?"

Mel gently placed the pear slice as far away from themself as possible, and watched as Patch walked over and tried to drag it just a little bit farther away.

-

Patch nodded and bowed as they began to take bites of the fresh fruit, once again eating around the skin of the fruit, which Mel watched with fascination.

"So… I noticed you never eat the skin of the fruits… should I peel them for you next time? If… If there is a next time." At that, Patch nodded.

"Oh, that reminds me, sorry, um, so I don't know if this helps, but, I figured since you can't talk, we could communicate like this!" Mel said, as she picked up a notepad next to her and reached out to place it near where the pear slice was placed. Once again, Patch tried to pull it even farther out of reach, but when they failed to move the heavy notepad, Mel took the initiative and scooted themself away from the small figure slightly.

"You can draw on there, I have a pencil if you need it, I could maybe break off a piece of the lead for you?"

Immediately, Patch's eyes lit up, and they swung their backpack over their (better) shoulder, reaching into the bag and pulling out their own little piece of pencil lead.

"Oh! You just, uh… had that, huh? Okay. Well then… What does your kind eat? So I can get you more types of food, if you want to keep doing, you know, this."

Patch started drawing at once, doodling little drawings that Mel couldn't quite make out from how far away she was sitting. After the little being stopped drawing, he stepped away from the notepad, and resumed eating the pear after putting the pencil lead away. Melody took the chance to scoot forward again and grab the notepad. Looking over the drawings, she was amazed at the quality, considering how fast Patch drew the figures on the page. Several different fruits, vegetables, and grains that Mel recognized were drawn, as well as some things that she wouldn't expect, grass, flower petals, and seeds that she couldn't identify. "I see… so you eat plants… are you some kind of herbivore?"

The confusion on Patch's face was obvious, even from the distance Melody was sitting. Once again, she chuckled as his little head tilted in confusion, his large ears flopping a bit as he did. "Sorry, a herbivore is a type of animal that eats plants. Like, they don't eat other animals or bugs or anything. Is that right?

Patch nodded affirmatively as they finished eating the slice of pear. Afterwards, they cautiously began to back away, having fulfilled the deal of answering a question in exchange for food.

"Ah… okay, I guess I get one question a day, then? Fair enough, if you want to answer one question for a snack then that works. Um… I'll be here tomorrow, too, if you want more. I'll try to bring something different, too, and make sure you get lots of different foods to eat."

Melody stood up, startling Patch, who began to back up faster, before they noticed that the human was moving towards her building's door. "See you tomorrow, then?"

The sprite cautiously nodded their head yes as they turned and left.

-

For the next several weeks, this pattern continued, with Patch showing up to Melody's patio every day to answer another question in exchange for a piece of fresh food. Throughout those weeks, Melody learned much more about the little being and his people. He was an adult, yet only ten years old, apparently about the equivalent of being in his early 20s. He enjoyed drawing, and had a real talent for it. His people live around humans normally, and scavenge things that the humans don’t need in order to survive, but Patch wouldn't elaborate on why they did that. For every answered question, the curious human had three more. Even despite that, Melody had grown to appreciate these little talks, though each one was only a few minutes long at best. And, the best part to her was that Patch seemed to be slowly growing more comfortable around her, no longer quite as skittish as he had been earlier in the summer.

As Melody sat at work, looking through the notepad and reminiscing about the previous weeks, remembering each conversation based on the drawing, she was already thinking about more questions to ask her new friend. There were still a few unanswered questions that she wanted answered, but wasn’t sure how to ask. After all, she was still terrified of losing the trust she was slowly building with this tiny creature, that she still couldn’t name. Her new little friend could draw most things, but she still couldn’t decipher the writing system he used. Research at work had given no results, which was maybe to be expected when dealing with a mysterious secretive being, but still. Melody would have killed to know what her new friend was, and what their real name was.

Part 2

“Hey Patch! I wasn’t sure if you were going to show up today, with how cloudy it is. Guess I’m just that irresistible, huh?” Melody said with a wink, as Patch rolled his eyes. In truth, the sprite was counting on Melody bringing food today, they had no luck scavenging recently… not that they would tell the human that.

“I’m just kidding, don’t worry. Anyways, I wasn’t sure what to bring today, but I got some berries at the store, and figured you could bring the leftovers home with you!” At that, Melody placed a few berries near the sprite, a couple of raspberries, blueberries, and most tantalizing of all to Patch, a strawberry, almost half the size of the sprite. He wasted no time taking the berries, wrapping each one in fabric, and shoving them into his backpack, before grabbing a tiny knife out of his bag and beginning to cut into the strawberry.

“Woah, okay, berries was a good idea then. But hold on, you know the deal, now I get to ask a question. And, I was thinking today I would maybe ask a tough question, so if you don’t want to answer it just let me know and I’ll ask a backup question.”

Ah, there’s the catch, thought the sprite, who had been thinking that this was too good to be true. Still, in the spirit of not offending the human, they waited to hear out her question.

“So… you’ve told me a lot about your kind, but I want to know more about you. So… what’s your story? When we, uh… first met, you mentioned another human who was, um… not nice. What happened there?”

Patch was as still as a statue as they heard the question. The sprite had done a good job of almost forgetting about them, and now they were being asked to describe them… how to even begin to sum up that time… and in drawings, no less. They would struggle to even speak about it, if that was an option for the mute sprite.

-

An awkward moment passed between the two, with Patch frozen in deep thought, before Mel started to worry that they had offended their little friend. “Okay, okay, no worries, uhh I had the backup question, remember? New question, forget about that person. No need to bring up bad memories. Um… so… do you have a favorite animal?”

The unamused expression on Patch’s face made it clear that he caught her bluff about the question being planned in advance, but regardless, he relented and motioned for the notepad. After he finished drawing, Mel noticed Patch continuing to mark something, this time on the back of the page. She paid it no mind, figuring he would show her when he finished, but she was surprised when Patch folded the page back over as if nothing happened. Getting the idea, Melody decided to ignore it, figuring she would check it later.

“Okay, so what do we have here… Oh my gosh, is this what I think it is?” Melody cried with delight as she took in the drawing of one of Patch’s kind, distinguished by the giant ears, riding on either a rat or mouse (Melody couldn’t tell), wearing some kind of saddle and harness, as if it were a mount. “Do… do your people ride on rodents like this for real?”, she said, awe in her eyes. As Patch nodded yes, Melody began to squeal with excitement. “Oh my gosh, that’s adorable! Do you have a little mouse friend?” Patch shook his head no, but Mel continued to coo at the idea. “Oh, that would be the most precious thing ever!”

Finally, after the human calmed down, a silence overcame the both of them as Melody watched the little being eat the strawberry with fascination. Patch ate individual seeds, dipping them in the juice of the strawberry. It was fascinating to Melody, but the look they got from Patch told her that their staring was making him uncomfortable. “Oops, sorry, sorry. I just can’t help it, you’re so cute when you eat! But I’ll mind my own business, sorry.”

After eating almost half of the strawberry, and removing most of the seeds, Patch finally seemed full, putting his little knife back in his bag. As he went to leave, his ears twitched moments before the sound of thunder was heard. Melody could hardly get a farewell out before the little being ran off in a panic as a few sparse raindrops fell to the ground. As Melody went inside, she hoped that Patch got home safe.

It wasn’t until the next morning that Mel remembered the back of the notepad. Taking a glance at it, she saw what was clearly a detailed drawing of a hamster cage… with a small figure inside, distinguished by their large, pointed ears.

Mel’s stomach dropped a bit at this, as she was unsure what to make of the situation. Was this… literal? A metaphor? She made a mental note to ask Patch for a follow-up… but the next time she saw him, she couldn’t bring herself to ask, remembering how distressed he was last time. He would tell them when he was ready, they reasoned.

Part 3

A few days later, it was all over the news: A tropical storm was coming. Everybody was preparing for it, people panicking and going to the stores for supplies, taking off of work, planning safety routes. But Melody could only think of one person, that being Patch. The last she had seen him was in that alleyway. Where was he living? Would he be safe? He probably doesn’t even know about the storm, thought Melody. That afternoon, umbrella in hand to combat the rain, Mel returned to the spot where she had seen Patch earlier in the summer, and gently called out in a whisper, “Hey, Patch, are you around?”

-

Patch rolled over in their makeshift shelter, nestled between the bricks in the dark alley they had called home for several months. It was more like a nest than a proper home, made out of an assortment of discarded fabrics and materials, used to keep body heat in and the elements out. It was the middle of the day, which would normally be when Patch would go out to try and borrow, however, traveling through the rain at their size was an exercise in futility. Patch chose instead to remain at home, conserving energy and heat by taking a lazy day. It wasn’t until they heard that familiar voice calling for them that they decided to wake up and investigate.

“Listen, I don’t know where you’re hanging out, or if you can ever hear me… I might just be talking to myself… but please come by later today, okay? I really need to talk to you…” Patch was a bit concerned with the urgency in the human’s voice, as she normally spoke in a relaxed manner, except for… that one time. Putting on their backpack, and grabbing a piece of plastic to use as a makeshift umbrella, Patch left their little nest, being sure to approach the human in such a way that she wouldn’t know where they came from.

-

Mel was relieved as they saw the tiny form of Patch walking near, using a discarded yogurt lid as a little umbrella. “Oh, thank the gods, you were still here! I was worried I was talking to myself… listen, we need to talk, this is important.”

She kneeled down, cringing slightly as her knee rested on the rainy concrete, but she disregarded it quickly as she focused on delivering her message. “Listen, there’s a big storm coming, and the worst of it will be here in the next few days. I don’t… know where you’re living right now,” Mel said, as they looked around the alleyway, wondering where Patch had actually emerged from, “But… I just wanted to let you know that it’s going to be pretty bad. And… if you don’t have anywhere to stay, um… I figured you could… stay with me?”

Melody immediately saw the apprehension in Patch’s body language as he took a hesitant step back.

“Whoa, whoa, don’t run, don’t run, listen. I… uh… saw that drawing… and I want to assure you, this is nothing like that. I just… I want you to be safe. You wouldn’t be… whatever the situation was last time. You’d just be a guest, staying for a few days until the storm passes, and then you can leave, I swear it. Hell, if you want to leave during the storm, you can too, though I don’t know why. Consider it a promise, a pact, whatever you want. I just want you to be safe.” At that, the human put her free hand over her heart, before extending it towards Patch, held as if she was going in for a handshake. Melody still didn’t know if Patch was technically a fae, but they felt like treating this with that much severity was still the right thing to do.

-

Patch was torn. Melody had seen the drawing, and they clearly already had guesses based on the last time… Patch knew they meant well, but couldn’t avoid thinking of the situation. Once again, they’re being approached by a human in an alleyway, being promised safety and protection… memories flooded back of the last time this happened, of how that human acted so sickly sweet to them for all of a single evening before… could they trust that Melody wouldn’t do the same? Sprites were particularly sensitive to the weather, Patch knew that the human wasn’t lying about the approaching storm. The decision caused them to start breathing heavily, weighing two options that both seemed risky. They could chance staying outside during a natural disaster, in a shelter barely protected from wind, or risk the human showing their true colors like the last one did. Was this truly good intent, or was it the long con, spending weeks gaining the sprite’s trust just so they could be thrown into a box like some kind of prize? Patch tried to think rationally, but their thoughts began to spiral as their chest tightened, worried about making the wrong choice.

“Patch? You okay?”, the human said, pulling her hand back.

Hearing the nickname snapped them back to the present slightly, enough to assess the situation a bit more rationally. If they stay out here with that storm coming… they die. If they go with the human, Melody… even in the worst case, they’ll live. Probably.

Still panicking, chest pounding heavy, they held out a hand, mirroring Melody’s earlier gesture. As the human reached back out towards Patch, the sprite winced, only to have Mel gently poke their outstretched hand with her index finger, in a sort of facsimile of a handshake. They remained there for a moment, staring at each other, before Melody spoke.

“It’ll be different this time, I promise,” Mel said, determination in her voice. “Do you… want me to carry you to my apartment, or do you want to walk there?”

Patch took a step back, and bent down, placing their hand on the ground palm-up. Melody got the cue and mimicked the motion, waiting to see what would happen, before Patch climbed onto her hand. A small shiver ran up her arm as the sprite climbed aboard, his tiny wet footsteps moving around on her palm before he sat down, and looked up at the human, nodding his head. Very slowly, and a bit clumsily, Melody stood up, before very slowly walking towards her apartment, her guest in tow.

Part 4

“Okay, well, um, let me formally welcome you this time to my apartment. It’s not much, and it may be a bit unsafe for you to go wandering, but make yourself at home regardless,” Melody said, as she opened the door, “I could, um, put you down on the floor, if you want, but I’d feel a bit better if I could put you down on a table. So we could be more eye-to-eye, you know.”

It took a moment and a glance from the sprite before Melody realized the odd sentence structure, quickly rephrasing in a way that her mute friend could answer easily. “Sorry… Just point where you want to go, I guess.”

After a moment of deliberation, Patch pointed to Melody’s coffee table, a shorter table that they could easily climb down if need be. The human nodded and gently placed her hand palm-up on the table, letting Patch walk off, though it was more of a stumble. The human sat down on the floor in front of the couch, such that Patch was at her shoulder height. Afterwards, the two of them looked at each other with uncertainty, both anxious about what the next few days would look like.

“So…”, the human mused idly, unsure what to do now, “Um… are you, uh… hungry? Thirsty? Need anything?” Patch shook their head in a no, although truthfully, they were a little hungry, as always. However, the sight of Melody standing up from a sitting position always made Patch anxious, being such a reminder of the vast height difference between the two. Instead, the two of them sat around for a moment, before Melody broke the silence again. “Do you like games? We could play like… a board game or something. I don’t know. Honestly, I’ve never really, uh… had a guest over before. That’s pretty sad, huh?”

Patch took a moment to think, before having an idea of what to do, they just hoped Melody would understand. After doing an exaggerated confused tilt of their head, they pointed to a nearby book, hoping to start a conversation about it. “Oh, that? That’s just a book I’ve been reading through.”

After another awkward silence, Patch smacked their palm against their face and began another approach. They made mouth shapes with each hand, and began pantomiming the two hands talking to each other. It took a moment before the human seemed to realize what they were doing. “Oh! Sorry, you’re trying to start a conversation, aren’t you. Oops… Ok, um, let me try again,” With that, Melody began to speak a bit more on the book Patch had pointed to. “It’s, um, about this vampire, well, she doesn’t start the story as a vampire, but it’s not really a spoiler because it’s part of the premise, but it doesn’t happen until partway through the first book, but anyways she has to find this guy-”

Patch was desperately trying to keep up as Melody began to ramble about some kind of creature called a “vampire”, nodding their head and tilting their head when they needed clarification. This side of Melody was a far cry from the stuttery mess that Patch was speaking to just a moment ago. It wasn’t exactly the conversation Patch had in mind, but it was oddly endearing watching Melody speak so passionately about something.

“- So then by the third act of this book she has to choose whether to embrace her vampire side or side with the humans and it’s this really great story and that’s where I’m at right now… sorry, I’ve been talking for ages, ”

Patch nodded, still trying to process the conversation. The concept was interesting for sure, and in some ways, they could relate… not that they could express that to the human.

“Sorry, I get pretty excited when I talk about books sometimes, heh. But hey, look at the time, it’s about dinner time and I’m ready for some food… What about you?”

Patch’s eyes went wide as they stared at the giant red eyes of the human in front of them, and the toothy grin on her face. She’s… just teasing, right? She doesn’t mean…

-

Melody was beyond confused as her little friend suddenly seemed terrified as soon as she mentioned food, backing away from her slowly. “Are you… not hungry? What’s with the face? Where are you going? What happened? What did I say?”

After a moment, Patch seemed to turn red with embarrassment, as he bashfully scratched his head behind one of his ears. He waved his hand dismissively, before motioning to his stomach to confirm that he was indeed hungry.

Melody couldn’t even grasp what Patch had been set off by. “No, seriously, what was that? What happened, so I don’t say it again? Was there like, a specific word?”

After noticing Patch go completely still and silent, seeming lost in though, Melody decided to simply sigh and continue on. “Well, I’m just gonna… go get the food now, then. I actually made a salad yesterday, so you can have some vegetables from that if you want." The human left, and a moment later returned with two plates of greens, one containing only one or two pieces of each item in the salad. “Here you go, bon appetit!”, The human said with a flourish as she placed both plates on the table, with the smaller portion placed near Patch. The little being seemed afraid of climbing onto the plate, but after an encouraging nod from Mel, he stepped up and began to eat, using his own small utensils from his bag. Melody watched with confusion as Patch went out of his way to position himself such that he was facing away from her.

Part 5

After the meal, which was slightly awkward without any conversation, Melody tried to think of what to do next. “I guess… the next step is to figure out where you’re gonna be sleeping tonight. Not that we’re going to bed now, but just to plan, you know,” the human said, closing her eyes in thought. “I mean, the obvious choice is the couch, but what to give you for a blanket… it’s way too hot out for somebody so small to use one of my throw blankets. I don’t really have anything small and light, aside from, I don’t know, a sock or something.”

Patch shook his little head aggressively no at that, with a fervor that Mel hadn’t seen in a while from him. “Okay, yeah… I mean, I was thinking of this one soft pair I have, but I guess maybe that would be weird. I guess the only other thing I have would be a washcloth? It would be a bit of a rough texture, but it would do for a few nights, if you want.”

Melody made a square with her fingers, roughly indicating the size of the cloth. Seeing that, Patch accepted, and Melody nodded her head to match his own motion. “Got it, I’ll get one for you later. For now, um, want to sit on the couch and watch TV?”

-

Watch TV? Patch thought, confused. They thought about it, not sure if they remembered what a TV was, but decided to just accept, hoping that whatever it was would be uneventful. Truthfully, after such a comparatively big meal, the little sprite was tuckered out, and the comfort of being in a human home again rather than their shelter on the streets was a bit… intoxicating, almost. All they really wanted to do was curl up and fall asleep, but their human host seemed insistent on waiting a bit before calling it a day.

The human held out her hand again, letting Patch climb on as she sat on the couch, placing Patch on the far side of the couch. Melody pressed a button on a plastic box, causing the device across the room to spark to life with a fanfare. Ah, that’s what that was called, Patch thought, remembering the device from the first house they lived in, as a young child. At the time, it mostly showed old images in a somewhat brown tone, but this was a much more vivid display with many colors. Patch wondered if the difference was technology improving over the decade, or if it was some kind of choice. After all, they grew up in the house of a much older human than Melody, a human who was older than their parents and grandparents… the reminder of their family made the sprite sigh.

As usual, Melody broke their train of thought by asking about what they wanted to watch. “I’m not sure what types of movies you like, but I like fantasy, mostly… they really let you imagine what it would be like to live in those worlds. Here, I’ll show you one of my favorites, check this out!”

It was a fairly boring story, at least according to Patch, some quest to destroy a ring for some reason they couldn’t keep up with, but what entranced the sprite was when the image would soar over the world, showing scenes that the sprite couldn’t even imagine previously, of geographic features that must be absolutely astronomical in scale to the little sprite, as the people in the TV were already so small compared to their surroundings. It felt like only moments before the video ended, although the darkness of the room and the rain picking up outside indicated that the sun had sunk below the skyline ages ago.

“Well, I’d show you the rest of the trilogy, but it is getting really late, how about we call it a night?” Mel asked, getting a nod of approval from the sprite. The human stood up and went to the bathroom, returning with a folded-up washcloth. She set it gently near Patch on the couch as she spoke. “Here’s the washcloth, as promised. Hopefully this is comfortable enough for you.”

In truth, it would be difficult for this couch to be less comfortable than the alley nest they had been sleeping in. Even despite the sprite’s reluctance to fall asleep around a human, Melody hardly managed to turn out the lights and utter a “Good night, Patch!” before the little sprite began to drift in and out of consciousness.

Part 6

The sprite woke up in a sweat, looking around. Ah, of course I’m back here, they thought, as they stared out the bars of the cage. A dream, again, or perhaps the couch they were on was the real dream. They were never certain, but the deep blue eyes staring at them felt very real. They spoke, their tone a sickly sweet one hiding a poison underneath. “Aww, did somebody have a little nightmare? You were twisting and turning in your sleep. Well, no need to worry, you’re safe now, here with your favorite person. Why don’t you come out here and let me hold you for a minute, to calm you down?”

The sprite began to panic. As much as they hated this cage, it was a brief respite from the human. As the door to the cage opened, the human spoke again, their tone beginning to drip with frustration.

“That wasn’t a question… come here, —”

…

The sound of the human using that name, their actual name, was finally enough to shake Patch awake, convinced it was a dream. After making sure that they were, in fact, awake, they tried unsuccessfully to go back to sleep. They would repeatedly nod off, have a dream about being approached by a human, either human, and jerk awake, only to repeat the process. Eventually, they simply decided to stay awake after only a few hours of sleep, spending the rest of the night looking around the room, taking in potential places to hide or escape… just in case.

-

The next day, the storm was raging outside in full force, causing the apartment to be dark aside from the artificial lighting.

Melody came out of her room to see Patch wide awake on the couch. “Hey Patch, good morning! How did you sleep?”

Patch nodded, though the bags under their eyes would have told a different story if Mel had looked closer.

Melody and Patch resumed watching more movies, with Mel explaining details as she noticed her friend’s confusion with the medium. Patch spent the morning drawing on the notepad, making little sketches of some of the wide landscape shots and even some of the fantastic creatures, though Mel was quick to inform him that they were fictional… probably. “After all, I would have said the same thing about a little fae with big adorable ears too, if you asked me a month ago.”

However, one thing that was bothering Melody was just how timid their friend was. It felt like every movement of hers spurred an intense fear reaction from her little guest, who still seemed skeptical of her intentions. Finally, Mel paused the movie that was on, and decided to confront him about it.

“Listen, if you don’t want to, I won’t force you, but… I want to understand what’s got you so jumpy. I feel like everything I do is upsetting you, and I don’t understand why. I want to help. Because, well, I don’t know if you feel the same, but I think of you as a friend,” the human pleaded. “Is this about… that other human?”

After receiving a small, but hesitant nod from Patch, Mel continued. “Can you… try to explain what happened? What they did? What you did? Anything would help me know how to be a better friend, please.”

Patch sighed. They knew from when Melody had originally asked that she would inevitably ask again, this human was curious if nothing else. But, maybe, just maybe, explaining to somebody what that human did would help. Patch made a motion for the notepad they had been writing in, and Mel took the initiative and flipped the page. “Would it help if I do something else for a bit and come back? Less pressure?”

After thinking on it, Patch accepted that offer, and Melody stood up, walking into her bedroom and closing the door. Patch could hear the distant sound of running water coming from inside the room as they solemnly began to draw. About a half-hour later, the human returned, and after asking permission, took a look at the thoughts that had plagued Patch for years.

-

… Horror was the reaction Melody had, seeing the drawings in front of her. She had suspected something bad when Patch drew the hamster cage, but this… this stranger has treated Patch like… she struggled to believe this was real. After the first drawing, an innocent one of Patch taking the human’s hand, the other drawings depicted a story of Patch being captured, threatened… tormented. Patch kept in a cage, the human’s fingers around the tiny thing’s neck, Patch being held above a grinning mouth, and other drawings that Melody couldn’t even bring herself to describe. Mel shuddered at the idea that somebody like this lived so close to her, somewhere in the same city block, even. What kind of sick person would treat any living being like this?

“Patch...” Was all Melody could say, her blood simultaneously running cold and burning with hatred towards his abuser as the images swirled in her mind. Patch wasn’t just captured, he was treated like a plaything, some kind of toy for a complete monster of a human. “Fuck.”

Melody noticed her little friend staring at her, anxiety in his eyes and his ears pulled apprehensively against the side of his head as his hands fidgeted with the scarf around his neck. “No, no… I’m not mad at you, how could I be? I just… what they did to you… how long did this go on for? How long were you their…”, She couldn’t bring herself to say the word she was thinking. “How long were you there?”

Patch shyly held up two fingers. “Two? Two what? Days? Weeks? … Months?” Melody questioned, getting more worried as Patch stayed silent. Finally, she quietly said “... Years?” garnering a small tearful nod. Melody had to stop herself, remembering Patch’s age. The poor thing had spent the start of his young adult life like that. Melody noticed Patch fidgeting awkwardly with his scarf again… the scarf he was wearing during the middle of the summer. As he fidgeted, loosening the scarf, Melody could just barely make out a deep mark across his neck now that she was looking out for anything unusual. Patch could only look everywhere except Melody’s eyes, tears welling up in his face.

“Patch… take off your scarf”, Melody said, somewhere between a question and a demand. Patch nervously complied, keeping the scarf in his hand as he anxiously fidgeted with it, while Melody took a close look at the scar on his neck. It wasn’t directly where his vocal chords would be… but it was close.

Melody wasn’t known for being a particularly quick to anger person, but she had to do some impromptu deep breathing to calm down, lest her anger scare her timid friend. “Fuck. Is that why you can’t…?” She asked, terrified of what the response would be, but Patch shook his head in a no, to the human’s relief.

“Either way, I need you to know… I’m sorry. For what that… that monster did to you. I swear to you, I would never… I’d like to think nobody would act like that, but I especially would never… ugh, no wonder you were so terrified!”

There was a long, painful silence that followed as the both of them looked at each other, pain in Patch’s eyes and fury in Mel’s. After another deep breath, and choosing her next words carefully, Melody decided to break the silence. “I know I’m not perfect… but mark my words, as long as I’m here, you’ll never have to fear them again. I promise.”

Patch made a beckoning motion, breaking Melody out of her rage. She saw him holding out his hand, and gently moved her hand closer to match, expecting a simple touch, but was caught off-guard when her little friend wrapped her finger in an embrace. Melody held her hand deathly still, as Patch began to cry enough tears to match the storm raging on outside.

The rest of the day was uneventful. The two of them watched TV, with Melody eventually noticing her little guest’s fascination for the wide shots and switching to nature documentaries after the movie ended. Before long, Patch fell soundly asleep on the couch, right next to Melody, who dared not move, not wanting to wake him up.

Part 7

“So… now that the storm is over, I guess you want to leave, huh?”

It had been about a day since the rain stopped, and the flooding outside had receded to a point where Patch could safely leave, if he wanted. Back to… living in an alley, raiding trash cans and plant pots for food…

Patch sighed, knowing that what they were about to do was stupid. If Patch wasn’t way past “Don’t interact with humans”, they would be judged so heavily for what they were about to ask. But despite that, and despite their own fear, they had to try.

-

Patch motioned for the notepad, and Mel diligently grabbed it for them, even though she was confused. Was he just saying goodbye or something?

It took a moment for her to recognize what Patch was drawing. It was a simplified version of Melody’s apartment, with a figure representing Melody standing inside it. In the space between “outside” and “inside”, there was a small figure, clearly representing Patch. Finally, there was a strange spiked figure on the outside which Mel deduced was the little fae’s way of drawing the sun. Melody tried to decipher what he was saying using their limited knowledge of Patch’s culture.

“The storm is over, and you’re… inside the wall? What… oh! Your people, you mentioned they live in human houses without being noticed… stop me if I’m assuming too much, but… you want to, um… move into my walls instead of leaving?”

Patch nodded, and Melody seemed conflicted. “Well… I can’t just pretend you don’t exist, Patch. We hung out, we watched movies, we bonded! How am I supposed to just… ignore you sneaking around and taking things?”

Patch’s expression dropped, as he went to put on his backpack, only to be interrupted. “Hey, hey… I didn’t say I was kicking you out, I said you couldn’t sneak around here. If you want to stay, it wouldn’t be like this”, she said, motioning to the notepad. “If you want to stay… I’d love to have you. But as a roommate, or a friend, not a stranger who steals my things. That’s fair, right?”

Patch wanted to argue that it was borrowing, not stealing, but considering the language barrier between them, arguing semantics seemed stupid. They considered the deal Melody had made. For the last few days, she had treated them nicely, and her disgust at their past had made Patch trust her much more… Hesitantly, he nodded, and the deal was made.

“Really? Oh my gosh, I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting you to agree, but I’m honored! From now on, I’ll be the absolute best human roommate possible! You won’t regret this, I promise! Okay, let me think, we’ll need to get some strings for you to get around… I’ll need to make you your own room somewhere… obviously not with a box or anything…”

Melody’s expression darkened a bit as she thought to clarify something for Patch. “Oh, and Patch? Just to be clear… you can still leave, whenever you want, just say the word. Or, uh, draw it. You’re a friend, not… you’re not trapped here. Anyways…”

As the human began to ramble again, making a list of things her new roommate would need to feel at home, Patch felt an emotion that they hadn’t felt in years… a small, skeptical glimmer of hope.

#hhhh nerves nerves nerves maybe by Fall i'll not panic every time i post an update to this (lying) #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #g/t ocs #oc tag: patch #oc tag: mel #patchwork melody

[clumsiestgiantess]

Chapter 18 of the Other-world Universe; let’s just try to calm down now. Five v one is a big enough fight for one day.

All chapters listed here

[Sympathy, Speed, and Safety all start with S]

As I started down the valley, Ivan called out to me from the opening to what was left of the cavern.  "Are you leaving already?  What if another portal opens?"  I sighed, "I'll be right back, I left-"  "Oh, your friend's still back there, right.  Just don't take too long or everyone here will start to worry."  I nodded and continued down the valley.  These people really need some sort of defense that isn’t little gunmen standing guard 24-7.  Though, I guess I’m that defense for now.  

During the short walk to the entrance, I brainstormed some ideas on how to better protect these people and myself.  I couldn’t stop thinking about that scientist's parting threat.  I was by no means invincible, and I didn’t really know how to fight.  Even with my fancy powers, a large group of scientists would easily be able to take me down if I tried to fight them all together.

Once I made it to the end of the valley, I called out.  "Erica!  I'm back!  Where are you?"  A full minute of silence passed without a reply.  "Erica!?"  I could hear my heartbeat quickening as it thrummed in my ears.  Where is she?  I scanned the rocks over again, unsure where she could have gone.  "H-hello?  Where are you?"  Panic bubbled into my voice.  I made sure to keep her away from the fight so this wouldn't happen, dammit!

Bending over the mountainsides, I started searching the last place I saw her.  It was over here somewhere, I thought uncertainly, by the base of the mountain.  Before I unearthed everything in sight, I reached under an outcropping I'd watched her disappear beneath earlier.  Desperately, I searched the ground in panicked sweeps.  My fingertips brushed against something warm and alive; I grasped it anxiously, and a shocked yelp echoed from beneath the overhang.  When I removed my hand from the rocks, I found Erica stuck firmly in my grasp, her torso engulfed by my hand, arms pinned to her sides.  

I reflexively brought her closer to my face and scrutinized her small form.  She seemed scared for only a moment before plastering on a steely glare.  "I was hoping to leave you waiting a bit longer.  Didn't think you could reach me under there."  I tensed, watching as she angrily averted her gaze from my own.  "You purposely didn't answer me?"  It wasn't a question really, more like a confused statement.  My grip loosened just slightly, and she yanked her arms out of my fist.  "You left me out here-"  "For your own good!" I finished, "I left you out here so you can be safe!"  "I don't care if I'm 'safe' here!  What about you?  How am I supposed to know if you're safe, huh?" Erica questioned.  "I heard the screaming, then everything went quiet and I wasn't sure…" her voice tapered off, then started up again.  "Yes, I didn't answer you.  I knew you would be scared for me.  That's how I felt.  I wanted you to know how it feels when you get left behind — when someone you care about disappears into some big fight that you can’t even see and you don’t know when they’re coming back..  If they’re coming back.”

Hesitantly, Erica placed a hand over the top of my thumb, which still pinned her in my grip.  “I- We just figured out this whole.. loving eachother thing less than a week ago,” Erica said, cheeks slightly reddening.  “We've been through a lot together; I don't want you to get hurt, or taken.  Or worse.”  She angrily rubbed her eyes on the back of her arm.  I could feel her shuddering breaths contracting in my fisted hand.  Finally recognizing the way I held her, I slowly unfurled my fingers into a flat platform so she could stand instead of being held aloft.  Erica straightened herself out accordingly, holding onto my thumb for support.

"I…  But..  It was your idea for me to fight," I said, bewildered.  "Yeah, but it wasn't my idea to be left here, away from everything."  I hesitated, unsure if she would take my next argument the wrong way.  She couldn't really have done much to help me, even if she wanted to.  "Would it have made that much of a difference if you were there, besides peace of mind?" I asked cautiously.  "I don't know!" Erica whined, "I just..  If you had gotten hurt, or- or if you couldn't fight anymore, I thought I might distract them so you could get away."  I faltered, causing her to fall to her knees in my open palm from the sudden jolt it caused.  "But that would be suicide!  You would've been captured!"  "But you would be safe.  You’d still have a chance to go home."

I stood with my mouth agape, dumbstruck by thoughts of potential scenarios that could've gone horribly wrong had I let her come with me.  “I know how badly you want to visit your world again.  Hasn’t it been months since you've lived there a single day?”  It had been a while, but even if I did leave, and Erica let me go, I would still miss her awfully.  "Erica, I…  You would do that for me?"  She looked me over disbelievingly, "Of course I would.  I'd do anything for you, because you've done everything for me."  Standing shakily, she held her arms open wide, gesturing for a hug.  I silently pulled her close; I could feel her arms slipping delicately around my neck as I did so.  They didn’t even reach completely around it.

With careful caution, I pulled myself in around her, enveloping her small form almost protectively as I lowered myself against the soft earth, kneeling there with her tucked close.  It had been so excruciatingly clear to me that if anything were to happen to Erica, I would never have forgiven myself.  I guess it never occurred to me that she would feel the same way.  I really didn’t want to fight; especially if this was the result of me winning.  Sure, the adrenaline rush was enthralling and I was saving countless lives, but at the end of the day, I was endangering myself, and I was hurting people.  Albeit they're awful people, but still.  There has to be a better way.  Something less risky than me throwing my superpowered self at awful people in an attempt to undo some of the damage they'd caused.

I felt Erica shifting beneath my chin and pulled away, leaving her standing on my palms.  "I don't want to fight anymore," I told her, "I'm going to find another way."  She nodded, "How?"  “I'll figure it out later.  Right now I think we both deserve a bit of down time."  Erica laughed; I could still hear the tears in her voice.  "Yeah, I think so too.  Saving the world is really stressful."  I smiled, despite myself.  "Shoulder?" I offered.  "Like you have to ask?" Erica replied happily, climbing onto it the second she was brought close enough.  Soon, she gave me the all clear and I headed back towards the Cavern Town.  

"So," Erica interjected into the silence we walked in, "Obviously you saved everyone.  What happened?"  I relayed a short version of the fight for her as I slowly walked back, even voicing my concern about the woman's threatening parting words.  Erica listened attentively from her seat beside me.  In the end, she patted my neck reassuringly.  "Everything'll be alright.  I'm sure you'll think of some way to stop the hazmat giants."  I let out a relieved breath.  Though I had no idea of what I was going to do, it was nice to be listened to.

“Oh, and the refugees are letting me stay here now!  Some people came up to me after the fight and told me that as long as I keep protecting the town, I can stay as long as I want!”  Erica leaned over my shoulder, peering out to where the hole was torn into the mountain’s face.  “You’re sure?  Even after you.. you know..”  I nodded, “They were still angry at me for that, or at least one of them was, but hopefully having a guarding job here will help make up for it.  And I think we can both agree that your little tent won’t suffice as a house for much longer.”  

Erica nodded so eagerly that I could feel it without having to look at her.  “I know!  Finally!  It’ll be nice not having to wake up to new bug bites every damn morning.”  I paused for a moment, “You know you could’ve taken any of the hundreds of houses that were empty, right?”  “Yeah, but then I wouldn’t be close to your height anymore.”  “You won’t be close to me at all in the mountains.”  She was silent for a while, fidgeting with the material of my shirt.  I slowed to a stop and glanced over at her.  “If..  I- I mean..  Will you stay here?  You agreed; you took the job, so you’re staying in my world, right?”

I hadn’t thought about that.  When they asked me to guard the town, I hadn’t realized that it would become my new job; I just wanted to make sure everyone would stay safe after what I’d done.  The hazmat giants wouldn’t have noticed them if I hadn’t destroyed the roof.  What do I want back home anyway?  To go back to boring college?  To go live in the world that’s sized to me, with showers and new clothes and a bed and people who don’t want to hurt me or fear me — the world I’m meant to be in.  Hmm I made some good points.

“Well, I guess I can stay a bit longer,” I said finally, “My world isn’t going anywhere.”  By my right ear, I heard Erica breathe a sigh of relief.  “If it makes you stay longer, I’ll sleep anywhere.  If the place I’m staying happens to be better than the one I had before?  All the more reason to stay.”  I smiled slightly and nodded, reminding myself that if I went home, Erica couldn’t come with me.  As much as I missed normalcy, I would miss her so much more.

By the time we'd returned, most of the people I'd saved had gone to their homes in the mountains.  Only a few stragglers remained, wandering through the valley.  Small stone monuments had already been erected near some of the wooden structures.  Piles of tiny rocks were adorned with candles and flowers.  My breath hitched at the sight of them.  I'd forgotten that there had been casualties on the other-world side of the fight too, those who'd fought bravely from the gunning towers until their bitter end.  I swallowed a lump in my throat and continued walking.  

Ivan was still waiting for me at the cavern entrance, which wasn't too surprising to me, though I wasn’t sure why.  He hadn't wanted to fight directly, which was smart, yet he was willing to risk coming all the way out to the mansion to find me, despite not knowing if I would even help him.  Judging by his well-postured stance poised directly in front of the entrance, I'd have guessed he was guarding the town had I not known any better.

I sat beside him, looking out at the foreboding abandoned cages left barren in the valley.  "We really need to get rid of those things," I said, gesturing to the metal prisons scattered nearby.  Ivan nodded, "My mom will be back soon with lunch.  After that, I'll help clean up.  Though there isn't much I can do to move the crates, I could probably find somewhere suitable to destroy them."  

"I'd be glad to help with the destruction part," Erica offered from my shoulder where she was happily perched, "Those things kinda freak me out.  Don't you think they look eerily similar to.."  "Animal cages?" Ivan finished coldly, "Yeah, they do.  No offense Alexis, but why are you.. so much nicer than they are?"  “She wasn’t always..” Erica sneered quietly.  I gasped, pretending to have been offended.  "Hey!  At least I'm trying to be better!"  Erica's face immediately flushed to a bright embarrassed red.  "Shit, maybe I shouldn't sit by your ear anymore," she realized aloud, glancing nervously over at me from her seat on my shoulder.  "Do you chasize me under your breath often?" I asked playfully.  Erica only shrugged and turned away, though I could still see the tips of her ears becoming rosey red.  

"What?" Ivan asked, bewildered.  "Nothing," I replied quickly, thinking back to his question.  It took a while for me to explain to Ivan what I'd once told Erica all those years ago — that my world was really no different from theirs other than its scale.  "These scientists aren’t from my world, either.  I’m honestly not sure if my world would be any better finding out about this one, though.  There are people better than me, and people worse than me.  Same as there are here.  I think most people you see are just kinda biased against you, you know?" I offered, "I'm sure there are plenty others like me out there in both worlds, they just aren't here in the other-world."

"The other-world?" both Erica and Ivan asked simultaneously.  It was then that I realized I'd never actually referred to their world as the other-world aloud before.  "Yeah, it's just a name I gave to this place when I found it.  So I could differentiate between my world and yours."  "Well, we call our world Earth," Erica stated matter-of-factly.  I snickered, "We call our planet Earth too, Erica.  That's the reason I needed to give your world a different name."

Just then, Ivan's mother appeared at the town entrance with a large plate of something homemade that smelled delicious.  Unfortunately, the entire dish she made for all of us was bite size at best to me, so I had to decline eating it.  Lest I eat everything in one mouthful.  Erica, on the other hand, instantly clambered down to ground level by the rocks next to my shoulder, hungrily asking for a plate.  The box that made my food was all the way back at the mansion, as well as Erica's last remaining possessions.  

"If you don't mind, I'm going to go get the stuff from the mansion and bring it back here," I announced once the others had settled down with their meals.  "Just get that later," Erica replied, "It's kind of a long trip back, don't you think?"  "What is it with you and not letting me eat?" I asked jokingly.  Erica's eyes widened as she remembered the box I'd made.  "Ohhh yeah.  I swear I'm not trying to starve you or anything."  I nodded, "It's actually not too far away if I run, so I'm going to jog down there real quick.  Then I'll come back, eat, and we can start destroying shit.  Sound good?"  Ivan nodded, but Erica abruptly stood up.  "Maybe I should come too!" she suggested quickly, "You know, to gather up my things?"  

This was rather suspicious, especially because Erica seemed so intent on having lunch only moments before.  "No, I can carry everything just fine, you stay and eat."  "Have I ever seen you run before, like, full speed?"  What a strange question.  "Uhh, I don't think so, why?"  Confused, I bent down a little closer to Erica, and everything clicked into place.  She had that mischievous look in her eyes.  The one she always got right before she said something ludicrous.  I’d seen it a lot more recently — ever since she’d confessed her feelings for me that fateful afternoon.  It was wild to think that she might’ve never done so without getting kidnapped by the people of this town.  

"Can I-"  "No."  "You don't even know what I'm gonna ask!"  "I don't need to," I chided, "I can tell by the look on your face that it won't be anything good."  "But.. but you can out-walk a car!  Imagine how fast you'd be if you ran!"  "Exactly.  I don't have seatbelts, Erica.  There's no way I'm letting you come with me while I'm running at 200 miles an hour!  You would literally die."  "What about your pockets, though?"  "You really think sitting in a pocket on my leg while I'm running is a good idea?" I retorted.  Erica was silent for a moment, then annoyedly sat back down.  "Fine, go get the stuff.  I'll stay here."  She seemed so defeated, but I had to refuse her.

A 15 minute jog later, I was back at the ruins of the mansion.  I'd just finished gathering up my box and Erica's things in a small pile when an idea struck me.  It was risky — I'd have to return to my world to do it — but it would be worth every second I was gone.  I zapped away to my basement just as my father came running down the stairs.  "Where in the world are you taking all the food?" he asked when he caught sight of me.  Luckily I'd been quick enough to get away from the table.  "I, uhhh…”  “Why are you taking all the food?”  “I- I needed something to eat."  "You needed all of that?"  

Shit.  Quick, think of something believable!  "Well, I put some of it away over there!" I said as convincingly as I could, pointing to the small kitchenette in the opposite corner of the basement.  My father looked at me curiously for a moment, and I nonchalantly told him I needed to go upstairs and change my shirt because I got food on it by accident.  He let me past him on the stairway, but I could tell he was still suspicious of me.  I walked upstairs to my room as naturally as I could, and soon I'd changed into a fresh shirt.

Afterwards, I returned to the kitchen and announced that I would be downstairs ready to move things once my dad was ready.  This was mostly an unnecessary step.  I could've easily slipped back downstairs without anyone seeing me.  However, I thought it would help prove that I wasn't doing anything strange.  Once I was sure Dad had acknowledged me, I returned to the basement.  Standing there at the bottom of the stairs, I took a long look around the room.  Everything seemed so big — so normal.  I could go lay down and relax on the blissfully soft couch, sleep in a real bed, or even take a much-needed shower.  But I had to get back to Erica and Ivan.

My plan worked, and in good time too.  I now sported a shirt with a front chest pocket.  The things I do for her…  Again, I gathered everything up and headed back to the Cavern Town.  Once I was seated with the others, I handed off Erica's things to her.  She was so distracted by her trinkets, I doubt she'd even caught sight of my new T-shirt.  I happily enjoyed a normal-sized meal while the others finished up theirs.  Finally, once each of us were done eating, and Erica had stashed away her things in the home that had been assigned to her when she first arrived, we set off to get rid of the cages.

With Ivan as a lookout on top of the mountain, which gave him a taller vantage point than me, he was able to find a gorge cut off from the valley where we could dump everything.   It took me three trips there and back to relocate all the cages.  It was easier going after that.  Erica and Ivan used some of the chiseling tools from the town to snap all the brackets that held the metal together.  Though, it was really Erica who did most of the breaking while Ivan stood by at the ready with a new chiseling bit every time an old one snapped.  Finally, once everything was broken down, I stomped each thin piece of metal flat.  This way the metal could eventually be repurposed by the Cavern Town.  

It was a bit of a hike back to the town entrance from there, so I offered everyone a ride back.  It was a bit weird how I'd become the new mode of transportation, but I didn’t mind it very much.  I mean, we were all heading that way anyways, and my companions weighed next-to-nothing, so it wasn’t like I was straining myself just to appease them.  In a strange way, it seemed like the polite thing to do.

For a while afterwards, I was left alone outside.  The others had gone into town to get Erica settled in.  I'd asked her to come by whenever she got the chance, though.  I sat draped over the mountain on the opposite side of the valley.  If I sat at just the right angle, the rocks created the perfect little seat.  It was by no means comfortable, but nothing in this world was very comfy for me, anyways.  I'd have to figure out how to spruce up my new home — a field a short walk away from the valley — with some more comfortable things from my own world.  However, it was an amazing view from up there, and it had quite a nice breeze too.  I closed my eyes peacefully, letting my hair billow freely through the wind as I inhaled the crisp air.  

"Well, don't you look beautiful this afternoon?"  My eyes flew open and heat crept across my cheeks.  "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're trying to impress me."  Erica's exhausting yet charming demands were one thing I could readily deal with, but whenever she gave me so much as one unforeseen compliment, I practIcally melted.  

Turning slightly, I saw her standing at the foot of the mountain.  Her voice carried as an echo throughout the valley; I could still hear her despite being so far away.  I stepped back down to ground level and knelt so I wasn't that insanely tall beside her.  "Did you change your shirt or something?" Erica asked me, finally noticing, "Why do I remember you wearing a different one?"  I smiled, remembering why I'd asked her to come back and see me.  "That's actually why I asked you back.  See, even though your ideas make zero logical sense sometimes, I do think they're pretty cool."  I proudly showed her the new pocket.  "Introducing: The closest thing I have to a seatbelt."  It took Erica about two seconds to realize what that meant.  "Holy shit!  You mean I can go!?  But I thought you said it's too dangerous or whatever."  "Eh," I shrugged, "This pocket will probably be safe enough, but if you don't want to-"  A wide grin stretched across Erica's face, "Can we leave, like, right now?"  "I don't see why not."  "Then what are you waiting for?  Let's go already!"

I held my hand out as Erica practically threw herself into it.  "Just please don't kill yourself doing something ridiculous, ok?" I asked, slipping her into the new pocket.  "Wouldn't dream of it!" Erica responded, peering excitedly out of the top.  I walked out of the valley so as not to cause a landslide, but once I hit the open ground I was officially in the clear.  "You ready?" I asked, glancing down to where Erica stood pressed halfway to my chest.  She nodded eagerly.  "Alright then, you might want to hold on."  Moments later, I sprung forward in a burst of excitement-filled energy.  

Though I'd long since moved on from volleyball, I still took my daily jog at least a mile or two around campus and back.  Point being, I can run for a long time without getting worn out.  "YEAH!  WOOOHOOO!" Erica yelled as I ran, "FASTER!  GO FASTER!  YEAAHHH!"  Rolling my eyes and smiling in delight, I pushed myself to pick up the pace.  I dashed over what must've been over a hundred miles in the other-world, lightheartedly grinning at the adrenaline rush my speed gave me.  I was astonished at how quickly ruined towns and forests whizzed by me.  It was as if I had super speed as one of my abilities too; though I knew it was only because of my height that I could travel so fast.

Eventually, I had to slow down just a bit.  I couldn’t run at full speed forever, but I could keep up a steady pace.  Even having slowed to a more manageable speed, wind still whistled in my ears and the landscape still passed by with shocking quickness.  Now I was thoroughly transfixed into my steady gait.  You know the feeling you get when you're cruising down a scenic highway, just enjoying the speed and the scenery?  Yeah, I felt like that.  

Every so often Erica would gasp and point to something cool, or she would ask me to go a bit faster again, but we were otherwise perfectly content to simply watch the moving landscape.  We might've kept going on like that forever — just the two of us.  Unfortunately, I eventually got too winded to keep jogging.  We stopped in an open field, where the grass was short enough so Erica wouldn't have to wade through it.

"That was AMAZING!" Erica gasped as I let her off, "Can we do that on the way back too?"  I laughed in a wheezing sort of way as I tried to catch my breath, "We'll have to see how tired I am, because I can not run anymore right now."  I exhaustedly flopped backwards onto the field, limbs splayed out to stop my muscles from burning.  "Wow," Erica stated, "You didn't have to almost kill yourself, you know.  It would've been fine if-"  "No," I stopped her, "That was awesome.  If I could've gone any faster or further, I would've."  I lay back, eyes closed, taking in the fresh scent of wildflowers and the woods.  Beautiful scenery and pleasant fleeting moments replayed in my head.  Then I felt a knee digging into my neck, abruptly cutting off the tranquility of my short rest.  

"Erica, what are you-"  "Shh," she silenced me.  I opened my eyes and went completely still; I could feel her shifting around on my chest as I stared confusedly into the sky.  "I can't take my eyes off you for two seconds, can I?" I asked mockingly, "Aww, that's so sweet of you to say," Erica cooed, "I can't take my eyes off of you either."  

My head shot up in surprise; I could already feel my cheeks flushing rose red.  Erica was standing inches away from my face with a devious look about her.  She took one look at my blushing, flabbergasted expression and burst out laughing.  I chuckled, both nervous and excited at once.  "Stop it!" I chided sheepishly, "You know that's not what I meant.  What do you think you're doing?"  "Oh, nothing much," Erica said, smugly leaning in closer to me.  "Ok, now you're just asking for it," I teased.  "For what?"  "This," I whispered, planting a delicate kiss on her cheek.  Erica giggled and my spirits soared.  "Oh come on, I know you can do better than that."  "Come here you little-"  

My hands cupped closely together, bracing her from behind.  I kissed her passionately, trying hard not to envelop her entire face in my lips, though it still happened anyway.  She leaned into me and I felt weightless — free.  My eyes closed in bliss as she slowly cupped her hand under my chin.  She stroked it with a feather-light touch, prompting a shuddering sigh from me.  Erica pulled back after a moment to take a breath of air while I lay there beaming in delight.  "I love you."  "I love you too."  

We were leaning so close to one another, I could feel her breath on my skin.  Her taste was still on my tongue, and her scent hovered in my nose in a mixture of sensations that were undoubtedly Erica’s.  She nestled happily into my cupped fingers around her, standing on her toes to press her forehead onto mine.  Kissing me lightly once more, she fell back into my palms.  

Gently, I brushed her cheek with one delicate finger.  Erica flinched and I nervously gave her a bit of space, watching as her hand drifted up to the scar over her eye, just above where the pad of my finger had traced her skin.

“Sometimes I forget this is here,” she said quietly.  “I finally got to look at a real mirror in the refugee camp.  It-  I look awful.”  My eyebrows knitted together in concern as I gently shook my head.  “You look beautiful, love.”  In a slow, delicate balance, I lightly touched my lips to the surface of her scar.  She was so close I couldn’t even see her, but I could feel the slight flinch of her head beneath me, and I could hear the faint gasp she made as I leaned over her.  Drifting away, I again brushed the pad of my finger over her cheek, gently resting at the spot beside the thin break in her otherwise soft chestnut skin.  Erica’s hand fell over my finger and gripped it tightly, smiling lovingly up at me.  “Thank you.”  “Anytime.”

The sky started to bleed red and gold, creating a marvelous backdrop that neither of us could ignore for long.  I scooped Erica up and placed her on my shoulder, propping myself up with my hands so we could watch the sunset for a bit.  Giddy adrenaline rushed through my veins as I felt Erica snuggle up against my neck, pressing a tiny kiss to it before settling down.  

We couldn't stay to watch the whole spectacle, however.  I wanted to start heading back to the town before it got too dark.  I left Erica alone for about five seconds to grab an electric lantern from the basement doorway in my own world so we wouldn't be lost in the dark.  With Erica tucked away at my neck, I began the long walk home.  

The night was refreshingly wonderful.  I watched the stars in awe, noticing for the first time that the sky in the other-world had completely different constellations, as well as those unique colors of star.  The best part was that every time I looked back to the ground to make sure I was still heading in the right direction, I'd glimpse Erica staring up in wonder, herself.  At first I thought she was watching the night sky as well, but after I caught her quickly turning away a few times, I realized that she was gazing up at me.  

I smiled fondly.  Never in a million years would I have thought we'd gaze at each other the way we did now.  At best, I thought I might stare at her longingly from afar, refusing to believe she'd ever trust me enough to love me.  Yet, here Erica was, sitting effortlessly on my shoulder while I walked, as if the spot in the crook of my neck was made purely for her and her alone.  The rhythmic thud of my footsteps nearly lulled me into sleep, but I managed to stay awake just enough to determine where I should be headed.  Sometimes I would bring the dazzling lantern light close to my face just to wake myself up.  By the time my exhausted body shuffled into the valley opening, Erica had long since fallen asleep.  I hadn't even noticed.  I'm thoroughly surprised she didn't fall off me the entire trip back.  

Well, I can't exactly put her to bed; her new house is all the way in the town somewhere.  Refusing to wake Erica up, I stepped into a field to my right, above the valley.  This place was my new, and not really improved, bed.  I'd already dumped my pillows and blanket there earlier.  

I was so tired at that point, I didn't even care how hard the ground was where I slept.  Carefully, I slid Erica off my shoulder.  She groaned in her sleep and rolled onto her side.  I couldn't help fawning over her.  Erica was absolutely adorable sleeping curled in my hands.  As she rolled over and pulled one of my fingers lightly to herself, it struck me just how small she really was.  It was baffling that an entire person could fit neatly in the palm of a single hand, and how trusting that person would have to be to lay unconscious in a place where I could very easily hurt her.  Not that I would ever take advantage of that to do so.  

Setting Erica down on the ground beside me, I fluffed up the pillows and unfurled my blanket, ready to call it a night.  My brain had just fogged over into the beginnings of a dream when I heard a sleepy whisper.  "Hey, are you asleep?"  "Not anymore," I whispered back, "What is it?"  "It's cold, and I don't have a blanket."  I chuckled drowsily.  "Do you want mine?" I offered, lifting it slightly.  The whole thing must’ve been about a mile long to her, at least.  She shook her head and stepped underneath the fuzzy covering.  Once her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, she made a beeline for my hand and pried it up, placing herself beneath it.  Laying down, she pulled my pointer finger closer to her.  Erica's small form was wedged perfectly in the space between two of my fingers.  "You're like a giant space heater.  Your hand is the only blanket I need."  

Erica sighed happily, snuggling further against me.  My insides tingled with joy at her small touch.  She really was fascinating, casually sleeping with one of my digits held tightly to her chest.  Her own small hands gripped mine softly in her sleep.  My arm was already going numb from the way I had it tucked beside me, but I was too tired and too charmed to care. 

Between the two of us, I was the first to wake up that morning.  Erica was sprawled on the grass next to me, snoring, so I decided to leave her be.  I made sure to keep the blanket over her to lessen the chance of her waking up as I slid out from beneath it.  Then I took a short walk around the valley to make sure nothing was amiss.  I nodded good morning to the guards who were still defending their posts, despite their ruined state.  Some of the wooden structures were being rebuilt right there and then.  

Once everything had been surveyed, I returned to the field.  "Hello?"  I stopped midway to the place I'd slept; Erica's confused and slightly annoyed voice called out from beneath my blanket.  "Hello, anyone?  Alexis, if you're just sitting out there watching me..  This isn't funny!  I can't fucking find the end of the blanket, it's too goddamn big!"  I watched as Erica angrily kicked the blanket from beneath.  Her tone grew more annoyed with every word.  I smiled, biting my lip to keep from laughing as I wandered over and lifted the cover off of her.

Erica grumbled at my lighthearted grin, "You were watching me struggle, weren't you?  I knew it!"  "No, I swear I wasn't," I protested as she stomped out from beneath the blanket's shadow, "I was checking in with the guards by the town, I promise.  Though, to be honest, that was kinda funny."  "No!  No it wasn't!" she laughed as she spoke, suggesting otherwise.  "Alright, back to town with you, I have to go plan some way to keep everyone safe now that I’ve agreed to it — before I end up stuck in a fight I can't win."  Erica nodded in agreement.  "You don't have any ideas, do you?"  

She thought for a moment, then shrugged, "Not really."  I sighed, also completely out of ideas myself.  In one swift movement, I scooped Erica off the ground and headed for the town.  For some bizarre reason, Erica seemed thrilled by the way I casually picked her up and carried her off.  Is this even the same woman from four years ago?   Once, she was afraid of me lifting her a few feet off the ground.  Now she insists on riding my shoulder 24-7, and pouts when I refuse to pick her up.  I concluded that her actions now were probably who she was all along.  Erica was likely too frightened of me, in one way or another, to act on them earlier.

My arrival was greeted by Ivan, whom I also asked for ideas on how to protect the town.  He simply told me that it was my job to protect the town, not his.  "However," he added, "we wouldn't need your protection if you hadn't destroyed our rock ceiling."  I apologized again for my destructive rage a few days prior, and returned to my lookout on top of the mountain.  Erica and Ivan both disappeared into the town, and I was left alone with my thoughts. 

Using the box, I made myself breakfast while I surveyed the land for potential threats.  I tried not to stew over Ivan's remark.  My behavior before had only proved that my presence here was really more of a hazard, if anything — certainly not a protector.  One thing stood out to me, though.  If I hadn't destroyed their natural barrier, the scientists wouldn't have found them.  Even if I replaced it, they would still know the town is here.  What if I made something else?  A new barrier that would be strong enough to keep the scientists out, permanently.

#aww the sunset scene is one of my favorites #also angst? #perhaps #a bit of both #g/t #giant tiny #other-world universe #g/t writing

[you-wanted-anarchy]

The Dire Mechanic - A Short Story

I don’t enjoy my job. The last guy didn’t either. I don’t imagine there’s many people who would want to introduce people to their makers, day in and day out. But someone has to.

Tonight it was Matthew Parker’s turn. I started the routine writing on my clipboard. I like to talk to myself as I work. “Parker, Matthew. 43, M. Automotive technician.”

“That’s me,” Matthew sighed, from underneath the Impala he was servicing moments ago. “You OSHA?”

“I’m more like, the guy they don’t want to call.” I liked using that line. It scared people just enough that they usually started to wake up.

“What the hell’s that sup— hey. Who turned off the radio?” Matthew’s annoyance turned to confusion. He was coming around, but he didn’t get it. I almost didn’t want to make him.

“No one did, Matthew. It’s still playing, right now. Come see,” I called, as I stepped a little closer to the vintage car. The ones who go quick tend to figure it out slow for some reason. Matthew started to move but realized the first problem soon enough.

“I’m. Stuck. That don’t happen. The hell? Help a brother out, would ya,” he asked me, a slight note of panic creeping into his deep voice. I put my clipboard under my arm and reached down to grab his callused, grimy hand. I didn’t mind, I don’t get dirty anyway. Anymore, that is.

“Whoa!” he called out, “how’d you.. what?” His confusion deepened as I pulled him straight through the car he thought he was still servicing.

“Look at the radio, Matthew. The light’s still on, see?” I gave him a second to find something normal again. Grounding tends to help after a traumatic experience, after all. “Now look at the car. What do you see?”

Matthew paused for several seconds. “The poor girl. She’s.. what happened?” I knew he was understanding now.

“She fell,” I answered shortly. I was tired, and Matthew was old enough to do the math.

“But then I— Oh. I did. Damn. Are you some kind of God? I never believed in all that,” Matthew said, his confusion dissolving as we looked together at the tragic scene. Two broken bodies: his, six inches thinner than it was this morning, and the Impala’s, two feet lower than it had been a minute ago. The wheels weren’t supposed to be on the ground yet, but when you don’t maintain your lifts…

“I am not God,” I chuckled, shaking myself out of my thoughts. “You can call me the Mechanic, if you need to talk about me.”

“They call me that too. Or called, I guess. Yeesh. Don’t look too good under there, do I?”

“Not really, nope. Seen worse though. Let’s take a walk,” I suggested. I like it when they have some humor. It’s easier than working around denial. As we walked together, the garage and the street slowly faded into arbitrary nothing, swirling hues of dark blue and grey making up all we could see. Walking was unnecessary at this point, but it made conversation a little more casual, and no one likes looking at their own dead body for too long, it feels good to move away from the scene.

“So, what’s it for me now? Where do I, yknow. Go?” Matthew’s question was reasonable. I was starting to like the guy a little bit. Not an easy thing for someone like me.

“Would you mind answering a few questions? Nothing you haven’t done before, but it helps get everything in order.” I didn’t tell him everything. I didn’t want to. They usually don’t cooperate as well. I have a job to do. I don’t have to like it.

“Sure, I guess I got time.” More jokes. I really don’t like getting attached, but there’s no need to be rude to a dead guy.

“Can you tell me your employer’s name, last then first, to start?” I clicked my pen twice as we spoke, and as I wrote the name I repeated it back, as usual. The ink glowed an ugly red in contrast with the abstract darkness of our surroundings. “Miller.. Ashton… thank you,” I said. As I continued the usual spiel of questions, the routine allowed my mind to wander again.

I wondered how long Mr. Miller would scream when I handed in the form. Doubtless, a while. Eternal punishment comes in all shapes and sizes. Getting a man killed is just as bad as killing him yourself. Did that make me a murderer? Probably. Aren’t all Reapers though? What else was a Reaper, if not just another kind of killer? What if we cause the deaths we visit?

I shook myself off that line of thinking. I was doing justice. Someone had to pay the price, to keep the balance for Mr. Parker here getting into Heaven for free. The one who caused his death. The man who let him get flattened by a ‘68 Impala. Yes, that was it. This was the right thing.

“Holy moly,” Matthew said. We were here. Good old pearly gates. They had lost their luster to me long ago, but to Matthew it must have been the greatest thing since the socket wrench.

“Holy, yes. That’s the idea anyway— excuse me a moment,” I said to him, turning to Saint Peter. “Add this one to the list, will you bud?” I told him. He didn’t have much choice after all. We all play our roles. As he tucked the form I’d just filled out into an opalescent desk drawer, I could swear I heard Ashton Miller’s screams already. But he wouldn’t see justice for at least another decade, more than likely. Shame.

“So I just. Walk on in, now?” the man asked, already stepping forward, doubtless by no will of his own. Nonetheless, Peter nodded, waving him in, before turning to me silently. His somber expression spoke centuries of the pain I only had known for a few dozen years. My one and only friend in this - quite literal - hell of a job. We all play our parts.

Be careful at work. The last face anyone wants to see is the Dire Mechanic. But usually, for the ones I meet. It is.

I walked an arbitrary path back to solid ground, pulling my clipboard from thin air, and started to talk as I wrote again. No rest for the wicked.

#short story #religious trauma #no more writers block #musings of a degenerate #dire mechanic

[scorpiongrassfield]

Theo Says There’s Something Different About You

Start | Prev

“Not everything. You still talk to yourself almost constantly,” he says, like that is something you obviously do. 

You feel your eyes widen. “I don’t talk to myself,” you say. 

“Oh, you do. Not when living people are around... But when you’re on your own you have very little filter between your thoughts and your mouth. You haven’t noticed?” Theo says. He’s got an almost fond expression on his face. 

No, you had not noticed. Now you’re trying to remember if you’ve ever thought something you didn’t want Theo to hear while he was around to hear it. Your cheeks are burning with embarrassment. 

“Oh, I’ve heard quite a bit… But don’t worry. Some secrets can stay between the dead. And it means I know more about you than you think. Which is how I know you’ve changed,” he says. 

“Hasn’t anyone told you it’s rude to eavesdrop,” you grouse, looking away from him. 

Theo chuckles. “Is it more or less rude than entering a person’s soul without permission?” he asks. 

“I think I liked you better when you were shy,” you snap. You let your hair fall in front of your face. 

“Most people do… But that’s neither here nor there. Can I… Can I try something?” he asks, and reaches out towards you. 

“Sure,” you say, even though you aren’t sure at all. 

Theo brushes your hair away from your eyes. For the briefest second, you feel his fingers brush against your forehead. 

And then you are somewhere else. 

Someone else. 

It’s disorienting and disconcerting, but this time no one’s drowning. No one’s bleeding. 

You’re seeing things from Theo’s point of view, and Theo is watching you. 

Past you is sitting on a couch, kind of hunched over, hands pressed onto his lap. He’s wearing short sleeves, which definitely strikes you as strange. You’ve always felt the need to hide since you woke up, but. You guess that’s not what you were after, before. 

“I don’t understand them. They picked me up like it was nothing… So I can’t be important to them…” the you on the couch mutters. 

He rubs at his face. “But I’m supposed to be important to them. They won’t remember me if I’m not important” he says, his breathing quick and irregular. He’s starting to panic. 

Theo takes a step towards the you on the couch. Like he wants to reach out to you, but doesn’t know how. 

“They say… there’s no strings attached… but they want me here even without them? It doesn’t make sense…” the you on the couch says. He’s bleeding. He scrubs at his face again, then runs his hands up into his hair. “No, no. He said… he promised… as long as they remember. But they won’t. Not like this… There’s no connection… Fuck. I don’t want to die…” the last few words come out as more of a whimper. His hands are still in his hair and is pulling at it hard enough that you know it has to hurt. 

Theo seems to think better of helping him, of helping you, and retreats away from the room you are in. 

And now you and Theo are separate people again. 

You have so many questions. 

You suspect Theo won’t be able to answer all of them. 

“See?” Theo says, pulling away from you. “You’re different now.” 

“Why did you do that?” 

“I wanted to reach into the past and finally offer you the reassurance I couldn’t give you then,” Theo says deadpan. 

“How’s this supposed to be reassuring? Concrete proof that I’m a manipulative monster…” 

Theo smiles, but it’s happy. “Let me ask you something.” 

You don’t answer him. 

He keeps talking anyway. “Do you hate me for what I did just now, in the water?” 

You frown. “No? You were just trying to stop drowning.” What does that have to do with anything? 

“Even though me clinging to you could have trapped us both there forever, always drowning but never dying?” he presses. 

“That didn’t happen,” you say, taking a step back. It doesn’t matter. 

“What if it did?” Theo insists, taking another step forward to match you. 

“I still wouldn’t hate you,” you snap. 

“Why?” Theo presses further. 

You throw your hands up in the air. “What does it matter? Aren’t we supposed to be saving Pat right now?” 

Theo doesn’t budge. “Just answer the question, Sylv. Please.” 

You sigh, crossing your arms. “Because you were drowning. And I know you weren’t trying to hurt me. Just trying to save yourself. And…” 

“And?” Theo prompts, not letting up for a second. 

“And I know you and you’re a good guy, even if you’re starting to tick me off right now. I wouldn’t hate you unless you did something truly terrible, maybe not even then,” you finally snap. 

Theo nods, and steps back out of your personal space. 

“Try to remember what you just said,” he instructs. 

You sigh. “You make no sense.” 

“I make as much sense as I can, considering how many times I’ve had my consciousness set on on fire,” he says with a shrug. Then he tilts his head to the side a little and adjusts his glasses. “Actually… that might explain some of the personality differences you notice… I’m not sure I come back the same each time.” 

You wince. 

Next

#choose your own adventure #interactive fiction #writeblr #original writing

[arc-misadventures]

I'm curious. Why is it called empath jaune when I seems more like telepath or something like that? I always thought Empaths could only feel another person's emotions. Not hear or speak in their minds.

A Clarification Of Thoughts

Nora: Jaune!

Jaune: (Nora.)

Nora: You lied to us! To all of us!

Jaune: (What about?)

Nora: You’re not a empath, you’re a telepath!

Jaune: (Because…?)

Nora: You can speak to me in my head! That’s what a telepath does!

Jaune: (However, I can also project emotions into your head. That is a trade mark of an empath.)

Nora: Still a telepath.

Jaune just rolled his eyes as he dealt with more of, Nora’s exuberance. She was like the little sister he never knew he wanted.

Jaune: (Okay, I am a bit telepathic. I can project my voice into your head, that is something usually telepaths can do. But, I can’t enter you mind, and find your favourite pancake is chocolate chip pancakes. I can feel what your emotions are, and share them. There are different levels to telepathy, Nora. I’m just on the higher end of the spectrum… I think…?)

Nora: Oh, I guess that makes sense… But, I have one question for you buddy…

Jaune: (That being?)

Nora: How did you know chocolate chip pancakes was my favourite…?

The short woman stood on her tiptoes, ‘staring down’ the far taller empath with an inquisitive stare as she buffed out her cheeks trying to look bigger than she actually was. Jaune just thought she looked like an angry ginny pig.

Jaune: (Hehe~! So cute~!)

Nora: Quite acknowledging my cuteness, and answer my question!

Jaune: (what, I wasn’t sending? How did you know I was saying that?)

Nora: Your face. Now answer the question!

Jaune: (Okay, okay. It was a… lucky guess. I know you like pancakes, so I guessed you like some sort of pancake. blueberry would have been my second guess if I was wrong.)

Nora: I do like blueberry pancakes…

Jaune: (But, do you like it more than chocolate chip?)

Nora was about to retort before her brow furrowed into deep thought as he speculated on what really was her favourite pancake. Jaune couldn’t help, but stare at her with great concern as a simple thought ran through his head.

Jaune: (Oh no… I think I broke, Nora…)

Nora: Blueberry, raspberry, chocolate, caramel, Renny’s pancakes?! WHAT IS MY FAVOURITE PANCAKE?!!

Soon the door to their dorm room opened, and Ren, and Pyrrha entered the room, before, Jaune could say anything, Ren beat him to the punch.

Ren: Asked her what her favourite pancake was?

Jaune: (Yeah… I-I think I broke her…?!)

Pyrrha: Nora…? Are you okay?

Nora: P-P-Pancakes?! S-So many types, so my flavours so many favourites?!

Pyrrha: I think you did break her…

Ren: Don’t worry, I can fix that.

As, Nora was starting to delve into madness, Ren put his hand on her shoulder, and and a grey wave covered her body as she slowly calmed down. She turned around, and smiled at, Ren her hand rubbing over his in turn.

Nora: Thanks, Renny… I…?!

Jaune: (THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!)

Ren, immediately pulled away, this grey aura that enveloped, Nora leaving her instantly. The trio all turned to stare at, Jaune as a wave of panic, and sheer horror briefly flood their minds as they were hit with a wave of mental feedback.

Jaune: (T-The fuck was that?!)

Ren: Oh, I’m sorry, Jaune. That was my semblance.

Jaune: (Semblance?! The hell kind of semblance is that?!)

Ren: My semblance allows one that calms a person down to the point where they can even hide from, Grimm. It has saved out lives many times.

Jaune: (That’s your semblance?! That’s… That’s a highly useful semblance.)

Ren: Oh? Why thank you, Jaune.

Pyrrha: You okay, Jaune?

Jaune: (Kinda…? Ugh… I was just reading randomness, then I felt like I’m drowning; falling deeper, and deeper into the void of darkness. Gods that felt wrong!)

Ren: I’m sorry, Jaune, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never took into thought the effects my semblance would have on you.

Jaune: (Think nothing of it, Ren. Neither of us knew this would happen. It just caught me off guard is all. I guess we can add me getting used to your semblance as part of our training with my semblance.)

Ren: I think that would be a wise idea. I look forward to training with you.

Jaune: (Well, that’s one of us.)

Pyrrha: Well, I for one am looking forward to training with your semblance, Jaune. I can’t wait to see all the possibilities it can bring to us!

Nora: Me neither! With your semblance, and my RAW POWER we will be unstoppable!

Ren: That’s a worryingly thought.

Jaune: (Alright team, now that we’ve dealt with that, I am a little peckish. And, I know just what to eat.)

Pyrrha: Oh? What do you have in mind, Jaune?

Jaune: (Well~! Nora couldn’t picker her favourite pancake. I’m sure she will after she tries Arc Family Secret Pancake Recipe~!)

Nora: Arc Family Secret Pancake Recipe?! What is it like…

Jaune: (Why spoil the surprise~?)

They could all feel the excitement flood out of, Nora as she started to jump out in joy at the idea of trying a new pancake recipe. Ren, smile in relief meaning he wouldn’t have to cook pancakes for her as often as he did. Pyrrha was excited to try out this new food, and enjoy a meal with her new family. And, as for, Jaune. He was just happy because he was just that: Happy.

Jaune: (Alright Team JNPR, lets get baking!)

NPR: YEAH!

As an empath you can kinda see what’s going to happen by reading one’s emotions, and learning how to pick them apart. But at this moment, Jaune didn’t need any of that because he simply knew, that it will be good. For as long as they were together, things will be great.

And, that’s all that really mattered honestly.

#rwby #jaune arc #nora valkyrie #lie ren #pyrrha nikos #empath au

[pilot-posting]

Loading Halo Port Connectivity...

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╰┈─) Pilot Profile Access... Granted

Pilot: Em, MIP 12.A 🏳️‍⚧️

Rank: Corporal

Role: Mechanized functions technician, asset damage prevention.

Mech: Haratora-Zed, Class-X

Age: 18.

Synapse Connctivity: Sensitive. At-risk of addiction or mind-meld.

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heyo! I'm Em, I'm currently writing a short story called "Asynchrosis" in a series of parts here on my Tumblr! Here are links to each individual part in order!

All story parts are tagged under #asynchrosis

Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt.5

Links to story related asks!

Srynthetica1 (how does jacking in feel?), Anon1 (who's we? why class-x? how combat?)

tags, #asynchrosis for Asynchrosis, #ems got mail!! for asks #emersons scrawlings for generally writing posts

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Wait? Who are you?

I'm Em, I'm a very normal trans person who absolutely does not let her weird obsession with what is essentially just robot-fucker v*re infect her every day life. I absolutely do not impulsively buy techwear clothes to cosplay a mech pilot who's a little bit down on her luck and I totally don't want someone to hypnotize me into believing I have cybernetic implants. I, in no way, want someone to dominate me so deeply that they force me to treat them like a pilot treats their handler and I don't want them to clicker train me to be able to force me to obey them.

On another note, my pronouns are IT/she. I use she/her self referentially because it's easy but PLEASE use it/it's for me. "Ohhh but that's degrading" IT'S NOT AND EVEN IF IT WAS I'D LOVE IT.

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DM's and ASK POLICY

I prefer asks! I love answering questions in a way which is productive to furthering the knowledge of everyone who enjoys the work I make! DM's however are HEAVILY encouraged if you want to degrade me, treat me like a whore, stick your fingers in my mouth, or hypnotize me.

Asks can also be horny! Send me horny prompts in asks, tell me how badly you want to be put into synchrosis~

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IS IT HORNY???

They always ask IS it horny not HOW is she horny,

Anyway, yeah! I'm pretty much always able to get into the mood unless I came like under 10 minutes ago. You can do with this information whatever you want.

With that said, what're my do's and don'ts?

DO!

DO ANYTHING YOU WANT TO ME IF YOU'RE ALSO A TRANNY, I LOVE MY PEOPLE AND I WILL GLADLY BE AN ACTUAL CUM DUMP FOR Y'ALL

Degrade me

Hypnotize me

Force yourself onto or into me

Cut me, stab me, or perform invasive surgeries to cause me to meld in greater amounts with the perfect machine form I yearn to control

Cum inside me or on me!

Fuck my throat, or keep me under your desk, I have an oral fixation :3

Bind me up, suspend me, gag me, blindfold me, really anything that limits my awareness of myself is actually pretty ok.

Squish/bite/lick my chub

Make me call you names like master or owner.

Make me less person more machine!

DON'T!

Knife/gunplay is fine. Snvff however is unbelievably disturbing.

Gore is fine to the degree that my organs stay mostly in the same place they started, in regards to roleplay.

Don't engage in excessive praise. This sounds really depressing but I'm not used to it and it can cause me to panic!

Don't bring any bodily fluids except for blood, cum, and sweat into roleplay or sexting!! I don't like p*ss and sh*t lmao

Asking me to commit to major lifestyle changes without me expressing my interest beforehand will probably result in me caging up. I like kink lifestyle, but I want to take my own pace.

Do not interact if you find me attractive because I'm trans UNLESS YOU'RE ALSO TRANS.

But yeah I guess all you need to know is I got horny when a Legion first forced my Titan up onto the barrel of it's predator cannon and fired about 400 rounds of 40 mm anti-aircraft grade rounds through the midsection of my Ion in 2016.

#emersons scrawlings #ems got mail!! #asynchrosis #mech nsft #nsft #trans nsft #mech pilot #mech posting #mechs #mecha #robot girl #brainwashing #trans t4t #t4t nsft #pinned intro #hornyposting #robogirl #robot fucker

[smallestapplin]

So uhhhhhhh, I sat down to write smut and accidentally wrote relationship-establishing fluff instead? Oops. 

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I promise the smut is coming soon! 😭 My demisexual ass just got waaaaay too invested in the cuddly stuff and I needed to build up to the ~*spicier*~ bits. 

Maybe two more after this so I can give each of the boys their own part? Please accept this humble appetizer in the meantime. 

It’s hard not to panic as the cecaelia rushes towards you eagerly, some sort of inborn fear of toothy predators bearing down on you at high speeds causing your breathing to quicken and your heart to pound. As you start to try and struggle against the limbs restraining you, to back away from the creature swiftly closing the distance between it and you, you feel the arms around your waist tighten slightly. The one behind you shifts, grumbles, and suddenly you can feel the graze of shark-like teeth sliding gently across your skin. It’s not enough to draw blood, or even to hurt, actually, but it’s enough to startle you out of your oncoming spiral. Fight and flight are evidently out of the question - all you can do now is freeze. 

The teeth disappear, replaced instead by a long, thick tongue - too long to be that of a human. It licks, soft as kisses along the same path the teeth had taken, and against your ear you hear a contented sigh. The creature at your back shifts once more, stretching like a languid liepard. Its tentacles coil more securely around you, sliding along your bare legs below your shorts, high enough to graze against sensitive places. You gasp involuntarily. They move again, coiling, slithering up and around and between your thighs, slick and smooth, and your traitorous body shivers in response as the tip of one teases your inner thigh to nearly slip into your shorts. All the while, the creature’s tongue continues to leave little kitten licks along your throat. 

And of course it’s at this moment that the silvery one finishes its enthusiastic journey towards you and finally comes to a stop. It looms over you, grinning widely, and up close you can see that its scales are actually iridescent, like mother-of-pearl, shimmering in the light as the creature moves. Its eyes are like opals, shot through with little glittering flecks of gold and pink and green and blue; it’d be unfathomably pretty if it weren’t for the fact that the whole situation is utterly terrifying. You’re starting to understand, just a little, why all those sailors warned you about beautiful, deadly faces beneath the waves. 

Unperturbed by your aborted panic attack, the cecaelia leans in close to your face. For a moment you’re afraid it’s looking for someplace to sink its shark-like teeth into, but instead it… Sniffs you? 

It buries its nose in your hair, a happy little trill rising from its throat as it inhales long and deep, nuzzling against your temple like it’s trying to scent mark you. The one at your back makes an answering trill, and you can feel it nuzzling into the space between your shoulders. 

(You’re not sure yet whether this is better or worse than what you’d been expecting.)

The one nuzzling your hair finally pulls back with a delighted chirp. This must be a signal of some kind, because the one nuzzling the nape of your neck rumbles in reply and suddenly you’re being lifted into an upright position, pulled into the creature’s lap. It shifts, its arms still wrapped snugly around you; as it leans down and rests its chin on your shoulder, you finally get a clear view of just what’s been holding you. Like you guessed, it’s another cecaelia - black instead of silver-white, tentacles the color of pitch and banded with rusty-red at the waist. The scales adorning its face, arms, and chest are the same kind of iridescent as its (assumed) podmate’s, with shifting colors that make it look like the sheen of lamp oil spilled across water. Its eyes and hair, however, are not black like you would have guessed, but instead that same shade of silver. The eyes are even complete with their own opalescent flecks of red, purple, green, and gold. Again, you think, ethereally pretty if not for the rows of teeth you know are hiding just below in its mouth. 

The creature stares at you with a curious frown, tilting its head to the side. You stare back. 

“H…hello?”

At your shaky whisper, both of the creatures are suddenly alert, the silver one practically vibrating with newfound energy. It claps its clawed hands together, teeth once more on full display. “You can speak!”

You blink. “...Wait, YOU can speak!?”

The oil-slick one at your shoulder makes a sound that might be a purring chuckle. “We can, yes.”

Oh. Oh THIS is weird. You hadn’t expected them to be… intelligent? No, that’s not quite right, they clearly are - very much so, in fact, if stories of their hunting tactics are anything to go by. Human, you think might be more accurate; you hadn’t expected them to be so human. 

The silvery one scuttles closer, butting its forehead against your own. “I am Emmet! We are verrrrry happy you’re awake,” ‘Emmet’ intones - an odd sound when juxtaposed against its (his?) grinning face. “You were asleep for two days, we thought you might not wake up. Ingo and I took turns keeping you warm until you did.” 

‘Ingo’ unwraps his arms from around your waist, but quickly replaces them with his tentacles. They wrap up and over your hips, dragging smoothly between your thighs again; you let out another gasp and unconsciously grind down, seeking friction. 

(You don’t notice the way both cecaelia’s gazes turn just a little bit sharper, the gills along their necks flaring slightly.)

Ingo mimics his podmate’s earlier actions and presses his nose behind your ear, inhaling deeply. His hands make their way upwards, slowly running them up and down the length of your arms like he’s trying to warm you up - not that you need it, you’re suddenly feeling VERY warm. “Our treasure,” he purrs into your ear. (And OH, if that doesn’t cause your thighs to clench around the tentacle trapped between them.) “So beautiful.”

Emmet purrs right back. “Verrrrry beautiful.”

You feel your heart stutter in your chest. Despite the situation, you can’t help but be oddly flattered. How long has it been since anyone’s called you beautiful with such reverence? Has anyone EVER? And other than the brush of teeth from earlier, they haven’t harmed you in any way so far. In fact, you seem to be in pretty good condition for having been dragged out of the ocean and being unconscious for two days. 

Still…

You squirm a little in Ingo’s hold. “Hey, so, not to sound ungrateful, but WHY did you save me?” 

Ingo huffs, amused. “To keep you,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Right!” Emmet nuzzles his nose against yours. It’s cute. “What good is having a treasure if you can’t keep it?” he asks, and it’s sing-songy, like the answer should be obvious. 

Emmet leans back and reaches behind himself and grabs a satchel you hadn’t noticed before, tied to his waist with red leather that matches the stripes around his hips. He scoots himself closer to you more properly, draping yet more tentacles across your legs. Several of Ingo’s own shift out of the way to accommodate him and you can feel them dragging over your suddenly too-hot skin. They travel upward, making room for Emmet’s, and push their way up under your shirt to rest just under the swell of your chest. Your breathing quickens as you become hyper aware of just how many places these two are touching you - so close to and yet so far from where you’d want a lover’s caress. 

They’re beautiful, you think again. And surprisingly sweet. Is this all really so bad?

(And as you think to yourself, two pairs of slitted pupils blow wide, two sets of gills flaring once more as your body’s scent goes from fear to the beginnings of curious arousal.)

You can feel Ingo purring against your back, the rumble strangely comforting. Emmet’s you can actually SEE - the gill slits along his ribs vibrating slightly as he does. He finishes rooting around in his satchel, pulling out an overflowing fistful of glittering jewelry. Holding it up with a triumphant trill, he quickly presents his offering with both hands; four long strings of pearls in different lengths, dripping with deep blue stones. It must have once belonged to royalty, something scavenged from a king’s sunken ship. He eagerly shoves it towards you while letting out a series of excited clicks.

It certainly IS gorgeous - moreso than anything you’ve ever seen before - but you’re not sure what to do with it. And so, confused, you reach out and cautiously take it from his hands with a quiet, “Uh… thank you?” 

Emmet snatches his hands back and claps them together once, a look of absolute JOY etched into his face. Before you can respond in any way, Ingo’s hands come up and cover your own. He guides them up with shaking fingers, (odd, considering YOU’RE the one who should be nervous here) until the necklace is draped across your chest. His touch moves back then, fumbling awkwardly with his claws until the necklace is safely clasped in place. 

They pounce. 

One moment you’re being cuddled and decked out in jewels fit for a queen, and the next you’re squished between two warm, scaled bodies as both cecaelias cling to you, purring loud enough to make your own body shake. Emmet nuzzles you; Ingo’s lips trace along the back of your neck and into the line of your hair. “Mate,” he breathes against your ear. “Treasure. Ours.”

“Pretty human, gorgeous mate~” comes Emmet’s voice from under your jaw where he’s placing little nips and kisses of his own down the line of your throat. 

There are hands on your arms, around your waist, along your sides, dipping so low you can feel the tips of claws skirting beneath the waistband of your pants. You can’t tell whose are whose, too wrapped up in the feeling of your touch-starvation being quelled for the first time in far, far too long, and the whispering realization of what’s just happened. 

The necklace had been a courting gift, and you’ve just accepted a mating proposal. 

Suddenly you’re not in such a hurry to find a way out of the cave.

(To be continued…)

~Spark💥

SPARK BABY PLEEEASSEEE

FUCK THIS IS SO CUTE I LOVE IT SO MUCH THANK YOU, YOU GORGEOUS DARLING!!!

I love your brain💜💜💜💜💜 how wonderful, thank you.

You have nothing to apologize for! The build up just makes it all better!

And this is top tier writing! Ah! I’m just so in love!!!!

(Somebody boutta get drunk and it’s not off liquor👀)

#spark anon #ingo.thirst #emmet.thirst #pokemon hybrid au #spicy #smut #🔞🔞🔞

[goodoldfashionedengineer]

Heavy Silence

Warning: This work goes into Bruce Banner's traumatic childhood. It includes themes such as depression, manipulation, child abuse, murder and more. Nothing of it is explicit but if these things are triggering for you, proceed with care or scroll further.

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It was friday afternoon and Bruce sat in Samson's office. Originally he wanted to cancel for today. He woke up with this tight feeling in his chest. The weight was pulling him down and he could just barely get out of bed. He skipped breakfast and only ate one grilled cheese for lunch.

Bruce didn't know what exactly caused him to act this way. He started to get better. He actually took care of himself, was going out and strengthend his relationships.

But life had to haunt him again. Like many times before. It might never end.

A few years ago, he might have tried to end it all. He made progress, but these kind of days are still there.

On these days, he can barely look into the mirror. The world doesn't feel real sometimes and he forgets what he has done five minutes ago.

Then he hides under the blankets. Never cries, because that is a sign of weakness and he can't be weak, ever.

On these days, he can hear his voice. It's scary. Not just because it is his voice but also because he feels like this little boy again. The little boy in Dayton, Ohio a lifetime ago. The little boy who had to choose between starving and getting hurt. The little boy who tried to hide himself, always unsuccessfully. The little boy who chose to remain silent. The little boy who couldn't protect himself.

The little boy who couldn't protect his mom.

Guilt was a strong emotion on these days. Even though he swore to himself he would never ever feel something again. Guess he can't even keep one promise...

When he feels these intense waves of guilt, there was always a voice which made it even worse. It reminded him of him but it is not exactly him. He sometimes thinks he is the devil's child then and he was right after all. But after a few minutes logic kicks in and tells him that surely the devil couldn't be worse than him. Whatever the reason for the voice's existence is, he found a way to haunt Bruce even after his death which was way to peaceful.

"Bruce, are you with me?"

Blink. Blink. Right. He was in the office. Not in his apartment. Or Dayton.

"Sorry, where were we?"

"We talked a bit about your day and what triggered the panic attack"

Triggered? No, he wasn't triggered. He was all alone today. He didn't go to an event or anything. It wasn't christmas either.

Then he remembered. The news website. "Alcoholic family father kills wife - the children are the only witnesses".

That was it. He did have a panic attack. How could have he forgotten it? He hates his memory issues.

"You read something which was a part of your own childhood. This must have been very distressing, especially when combined with the depressive mood you have been feeling today."

"The headline wasn't a part of my childhood. First, he wasn't a father, a father wouldn't do these horrible things he did to me. Second, I didn't have any siblings, any friends. Sure, there is Jen but she lived in L.A and I in Dayton. I was all alone."

"Let's look further into this."

He said too much. He didn't think before he spoke. It was impulsive. Why wanted Leonard talk about this with him anyway?! He knows the story. They discussed his loneliness often enough.

"Please not."

"Okay, then let me ask another question. Do you remember a period of time in which you felt safe? And I mean not just short moments, but years, months, weeks or days in a row."

Deep down he knew the answer. He still chose to remain silent. And this was an answer in itself.

Samson nodded. "Do you feel safe now?"

He knew the answer but chose to remain silent.

"Why don't you feel safe now?"

He knew the answer but didn't say it out loud. He couldn't. He wouldn't give him this satisfaction after his death.

But no matter how long he stayed silent, it didn't change the answer.

#bruce banner #bruce banner angst #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #marvel writing #marvel one shot #marvel comics #marvel 616 #brian banner #mcu #marvel fanfiction #bruce banner one shot #bruce banner fanfiction #leonard samson #mcu bruce banner #616 bruce banner #the incredible hulk #marvel fandom #rebecca banner #jennifer walters #she hulk #she hulk series #she hulk attorney at law #tw depression #tw derealization #tw dissociation #tw murder #tw childhood abuse #tw religious trauma #tw selfhate