#so life is endless crunch and stress right now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crymeariveronceagain · 2 years

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I’m going to put this here under the assumption that you’re okay with receiving vents. If not, I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding and please ignore this ask. I hope you’re doing well either way.

(Very heavy vent below, once again do not read if you’re not comfortable. Put yourself first, please!)

Vent start: I don’t know what to do. That’s the summary of it. I just don’t know. I want to be okay and normal and healthy so much, but I just can’t. So often I hear “you’re not alone!” And “There are so many other people like you out there!” And I believe it but I just can’t seem to find them. Every person I’ve spoken to cannot relate to me, and if they can relate to me at all it’s with one of my most surface-level issues, and it just makes me feel more alone than before. I’ve been suicidal for years and years now. I have ocd, autism, adhd, sensory processing disorder, insomnia, and severe general and social anxiety along with severe depression. (These are professionally diagnosed.) I am 16 years old. I feel like I’ve been alive for centuries. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like a kid, even when I was a small child. I can’t even imagine what it feels like to be joyful because my entire life has been this endless cycle of stress and misery and there’s not a thing I can do about it. I’m not good at anything, I can barely even exist in the moment without dissociating. None of the doctors I’ve spoken to care about me, I am tearing my family apart because of what a bad state I’m in. I just want the people I care about to be happy, but I cannot even achieve that because the biggest obstacle in the way of their happiness is me.

Vent’s over now.

In other news, you are very good at writing and I admire your work, and how you are able to release it so quickly. Please take care of yourself, and I wish you well (whether or not you chose to read the vent.) <3

hoooooooooo boy that's a vent, but love, I'm glad you went somewhere with it. That's a lot. It sounds horrible to deal with. Like, every bit of what you described I would collapse instantly under. Pass out and die immediately. Just, sheer emotional crunch.

You are infinitely stronger than I am. You are far more powerful, more impressive, and amazing than i could ever be.

I'm so sorry no one can relate to you. That is one of the worst feelings. Ever. Human beings want to be recognized, seen, noticed, and understood. I believe it is also the human condition that as much as we want to be understood, no one ever perfectly does. It burns, hurts, stings. Aches.

And you're right, I can't relate to your struggles either. I wish I could. Honestly. Like, I know it's selfish, but I really wish I had more mental problems just so I could relate to people who go through this kind of thing.

As far as the suicidal thoughts go, what my advice there is: I love you. Hang on for me. The world is so much better with you in it. You might not be able to see how, but I see it. Someone's gonna read this post and think, stars, there's someone out there like me. And you, in this moment, are the hope for another person. You are hope, beloved. Keep being hope. Keep going.

Everything else, I'm sure you've heard every advice on the planet, there's not going to be much I can add to it. Like, everything you're going through? It's awful. It's hard. Nothing I say can make it better, because it... it's out of the reach of words.

Words can't make it better.

There are things words can't change. This is one of them.

But, all I can offer is that you are far stronger than I've ever been, or ever will be. You are the hope for every person dealing with what feels overwhelming. You are the strength people need to see in the world.

Because it takes a lot of strength, keeping going. It takes so much work. I know it has to.

Also, honestly, doctors piss me off <3. I hope you find better ones. You deserve better ones. People should care about you. I care about you.

And. For the record.

You are not an obstacle to anyone's happiness. That's a lie your brain is desperately trying to convince you of. But it isn't true.

People's happiness does not depend on you. You are outside of them. They control their own emotions. They are responsible for themselves. They are in charge of their own wellbeing. Joy is a choice. Happiness is an emotion, chemicals in the brain. Joy is a conscious choice. Like, seriously. There are things that people get wrong in this world, and one of them is that every emotion is just feeling. Like, Love is willing the good of the other. That's not a feeling, that's a choice. Joy is a choice to focus on what's good, to strive to just keep going.

So, darling, dearest, beloved anon.

You, my dear, are hope. You are strength. You are power. You may not feel like it. In fact, you probably feel like the opposite, most of the time.

But you give me hope. Because if you can do it, I can too.

If you are brave enough to keep on going.

Stars, the rest of us can only keep going on in awe of you.

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devmahfuz · 4 months

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Parting Ways with Hassles: Revolutionize Your Workflow with Inventory Software

Is your inventory a chaotic labyrinth of misplaced parts, frantic searches, and late-night ordering sessions? You're not alone. Managing parts effectively can be a logistical nightmare, especially for businesses constantly juggling deadlines and demands. But fear not, weary warriors of the warehouse! There's a light at the end of the tunnel, and it's powered by the magic of parts inventory management software.

The Pain Points We've All Felt:

Let's face it, traditional inventory management methods are about as efficient as trying to navigate rush hour traffic on a unicycle. We've all been there:

The "Where's Waldo?" of Parts: Endless hunts for that elusive bolt or missing widget, turning the warehouse into a real-life game show.

Spreadsheet Shenanigans: Manually updating spreadsheets is a recipe for errors and wasted time. One misplaced comma and your entire stock count goes haywire!

Stockout Stress: Running out of crucial parts at crunch time can send productivity plummeting faster than a dropped wrench.

Ordering Overwhelm: Juggling multiple suppliers and purchase orders is enough to give anyone a migraine.

Enter the Inventory Management Superhero:

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Data-driven Insights: Gain valuable insights into your inventory patterns, identify trends, and optimize your stock levels for maximum efficiency.

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The Results Speak for Themselves:

Implementing parts inventory management software isn't just about feeling good (although, let's be honest, it is pretty satisfying to watch those spreadsheets vanish). It's about tangible results that impact your bottom line:

Reduced Costs: Lower overhead from optimized inventory levels, fewer stockouts, and minimized ordering errors.

Improved Efficiency: Spend less time on inventory management and more time on revenue-generating activities.

Enhanced Customer Satisfaction: Deliver projects on time and avoid delays caused by parts shortages.

Boosted Team Morale: Say goodbye to inventory-related stress and hello to a happier, more productive workforce.

Ready to Embrace the Inventory Revolution?

The world of parts inventory management doesn't have to be a chaotic battlefield. With the right software, you can transform it into a well-oiled machine, humming with efficiency and productivity. So, ditch the spreadsheets, dust off your barcode scanner, and prepare to enter a new era of inventory bliss.

Now it's your turn! Share your own inventory horror stories or success tips with parts management software in the comments below. Let's help each other conquer the warehouse and embrace the inventory revolution!

Bonus Tip: When choosing parts inventory management software, consider your specific needs and budget. There are a variety of options available, so do your research and find the perfect fit for your business.

Remember, a smooth-running inventory is a happy inventory, and a happy inventory means a happy you!tunesharemore_vertadd_photo_alternate

#parts inventory management software

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skovgaard00skovgaard · 2 years

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keilemlucent · 4 years

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take care of me

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~4.4k

beta’ed: @hawnks

keigo is perfectly happy to help you forget a stressful day

warnings: daddy kink (no age play), spanking, aftercare, praise kink, self indulgent smut, spit kink <333333, bdsm, masochist reader

...

self indulgent..... caregiver dom keigo? we knew it was coming. enjoy loves <333

||||||||||||||||||||||

You ached all over.

The mental exhaustion of the day was far more grating than the physical, but the dull throb of your tired muscles was impossible to ignore, even when you were only half-conscious on the couch.

You were put out.

You’d been burrowed under a pile of blankets since you’d stumbled into the penthouse after work, curling up without even bothering to take off your shoes.

Night had fallen, the apartment cold, silent and still. Normally, you might’ve whipped up some dinner or showered, maybe done something productive.

But not that night.

You’d held yourself together through the day. Each angry word and sneer you faced was handled with a smile, despite how you were cracking inside. You even managed to keep an even expression when your scalding morning coffee was splattered over your shirt, almost burning you.

Well, you weren’t sure if it hadn’t. You hadn’t checked, considering you were still wearing the stained garment. Maybe, the skin of your stomach was as inflamed and puckered as it felt.

Maybe that was just your mood.

...

You hardly stirred when the balcony door of the apartment slid open and then shut, Keigo’s ruffling and booted footsteps echoing across over the apartment.

Your eyes stay half-lidded and hazy when Keigo rounds the couch, eyes softening as he notices your cocoon of blankets.

“Hey, dove,” Dropping to his knees neck to the couch, he cups the side of your cheek in a gloved hand, “Feeling a bit tired?”

You nodded, lips still sealed.

There was nothing in you to give, just the slow simmering of exhaustion and sadness that you couldn’t escape.

Keigo’s gaze softened, gold and far-too pretty in the dim light of the living room, “Bad day?”

“Y-yeah.”

Your voice cracked when you spoke, the words going grainy as your chest tightened.

As you sniffled, burying your face into the blankets as unwelcome tears stung at the corners of your eyes.

Very bad day.

He shed his jacket and gloves, tossing them to the side without a care. Keigo coaxed you to rise, only enough for him to slip into the blankets, laying underneath you to pull your head to his chest.

“I’ve gotcha’, dove,” He hummed, pressing kiss after kiss into your hair. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

You didn’t respond, only bit your lip and buried your face into his chest.

Keigo had just arrived home after a long day, and the last thing you wanted was to be a chore to deal with consider how fucking trashed you felt. The idea of being a burden—

His voice shocked you from your thoughts.

“Do you want daddy to take care of it?”

His words and all of their insinuations washed over you.

You knew Keigo had no issues taking that role— fuck, he confided in you many, many times that he loved being able to take care of you in any and all ways.

Giving it a name, an identity, made him purr with pride.

You swallowed, the idea curling your head. Catharsis by Keigo’s hand sounded fucking fantastic in the most gut-rotting way.

You nodded.

Keigo smiled against your hair, his own insides twisting. He’d had his own day of annoyance and had been more than ready and willing to come home to you and blow off some steam, but if this was what you needed, he was more than willing to provide and have a fantastic time doing it.

Keigo hummed, smoothing his hands up your sides. “So what are you feeling?” He knew you wouldn’t be great at giving anything other than ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answers, but he could try and coax a bit more out of you.

Options.

“I could start off slow, just how you like,” His voice curled over your ear with a nip as he slid his thumbs beneath your waistband. “Let you rut on my thigh like the cute little dove you are. If you’re good, maybe you could suck daddy’s cock while I lick your pussy clean.”

You buried your face in his neck, a high whine echoing from the back of your throat.

Keigo felt his cock twitch, wings stirring from their crunched position.

“Or, I could knot your wrist tight, give them those nice, pretty burns, tie you to the bottom of the couch and fuck you into the floor.”

You buried yourself deeper, all of the ideas in your head were alluring, but not quite right.

A kinder option was also a good idea.

“Or, I could hold you nice and tight like this for a while. Maybe take a bath, use that new massage oil we ordered, rub you down until all of that tension is pulled out by my hands.”

The pads of Keigo’s fingers rolled into the knots in your shoulders, some of the stress dripping away with the preview of his words.

It took the softness to realize what you really needed:

“I want it to hurt.”

Oh, and fuck, you wanted it to so bad.

You wanted to be fucked up and used so bad you could barely move. Fucked stupid, so all of the nasty thoughts of the day would melt away.

Keigo practically rumbled beneath you, his wings flexing and puffing up against your back, just inches from your face.

He wanted it— no, needed it, just as bad as you.

He took a few deep breaths beneath you, his hand wandering to settle with a bruising grip at the fat above your waist.

“Gimme your taps,” Keigo nuzzled against your cheek.

“One tap is that I’m good, two taps is slow down, three taps is stop, four taps is that I’m having trouble talking.”

It was an easy system, one you and Keigo had adapted to suit your needs and the often merciless ways he’d lay you to ruin.

“Perfect, dove, god,” Keigo sang his words like sweet prayers. Slowly, he sat up, still holding you tight to his chest. “You go wash up quick in the bedroom, I’ll get myself all settled and ready. Wear whatever you’d like and shout if you need me, okay?”

You swallowed, gut turning.

“O-Okay, I love you.

“I love you too, so fucking much.”

...

You took a few minutes in the bathroom to ground yourself. You still felt like shit, but in the way that now craved something different and more carnal to get it to fall away and release.

You trusted Keigo with everything in you. He knew how to pick you apart just the way you needed.

You wandered back into the living room, padding in quietly in a pair of fluffy socks, an oversized tee that hung just below your ass, and a pair of shorts that showed the barest bits of your cheeks.

Keigo was in the kitchen, the hilt of the knife clicking against the metal of the rings he wore as he chopped up a few of your favorite fruits and placed them into a wooden bowl.

He’d changed as well, looking sharper and much more like the ‘daddy Keigo’ that you knew. His black pants were sharp and perfectly fitted, along with the black mock neck he wore. He accessorized with a few rings on each hand and a chain necklace laying over his collarbones.

Keigo’s eyes flickered up to you as you regarded him, a little grin beginning to grow.

“Seems I overdressed.” His wings flared behind him, unable to hide his excitement the same way his face was.

“I-I can change—”

“Absolutely not,” Keigo slid around the kitchen island, tsking quietly. “You’re perfect, just like this.”

You didn’t reply, not until Keigo stopped in front of your and grabbed your jaw, pulling your gaze to him.

“Sweetness,” His affections rolled over your skull in the exact way you needed. “Do you want me to take care of you?”

“P-Please.”

The word was desperate, shaking and shuddering as it slipped from lips.

Keigo’s smile grows wider, his plumage ruffling.

“Sweet girl, try again.”

Your lip wobbled as he stroked down at your pulse point.

“Please, d-daddy.”

What a role to have.

Keigo loved it, notably.

It had started early, that incessant itch to care for you in any way that he could was semi-insatiable until he started to indulge it to his heart's content. You thrived off it too, needing that personal attention that he was so willing to give. And hell, it wasn’t like you didn’t return it constantly with endless love and sweetness.

He just took care of you.

The details, all the small things he’d gathered about since you’d gotten together (and before then too) were things he cherished. Little things about you he wasn’t even sure you noticed, he collected them and accommodated them in any way he could.

There was the more mundane, like your favorite smells and tastes and touches. The knowledge of the best textures of clothes and blankets that he loved to gift you and your favorite spices and sweets were coveted.

There was the more intimate, too.

He had taken breaking you apart with pleasure as a divine rite, that first time he got you on the silken sheets of his bed. Learning every twitch and shudder and what it meant felt like his life’s goal as he buried his face in your cunt.

You liked it all, notably.

You thrived off the attention, though it took a while for you to accept that ‘yes, you do indeed deserve this, very much so.’

Once more, you returned it. Perhaps you weren’t quite as perceptive as Keigo was, you didn’t have the training (thank god), but you did constantly return love to him. Your own touch and kind words more comforting than anything he’d ever received in his fucking life.

He could only return the favor by taking care of you in any way that you needed.

And that night?

You needed to hurt.

And Keigo, truthfully, was in the mood to get a bit of tied up anger out in the sweetest way possible.

...

Keigo drifted to the couch, your hand in his with you in tow. You were so meek that day, eyes downcast.

He’d have to be careful, watch your body and expressions and not push you too far. He trusted you to call things off, but he still never hurt you beyond what you could handle.

Besides, Keigo had crafted a wonderful plan that he was fairly (very) certain you would enjoy.

Keigo sat down on the couch, thighs parted the slightest bit, a half-chub already pressing against his trouser.

“Lie down, dove,” He kept his voice so sweet as he tapped his thigh. “Let me help you.”

You scrunched your shirt in your hands, mind beginning to get pleasantly hazy with his words and you laid yourself over his lap. You adjusted with your arms cushioning your head, knees pressed against the cushion.

“Talk to me, sweetness— What’s going on?” Keigo spoke as he nudged your hips upwards, your back bowing and arching under his touch.

“Just a bad day,” You swallowed, burying your face into the cushions. “I don’t want to think about it.”

Your head was already swimming, you didn’t want to mentally relive how awful the day had been—

“Then let’s make it good, hm?” Keigo mused, cupping your ass through your shorts and squeezing. “Make you forget in your favorite way. I know how much you like this.”

You tried to speak, but your jaw snapped shut with a click and a cry as Keigo’s palm smacked over the fat of your ass.

“You just need a little bit of extra help today, hm?” Keigo smoothed his hand over where he had struck. The motion was tender in the same way his words were, washing over you enough to almost distract from the pain that was just beginning.

“Uh-huh,” You replied, weak and muffled into the fabric beneath you.

Another strike sent you pressing into the cushions, whining against upholstery as Keigo rubbed over your skin was against, his other hand going to stabilize your back, tracing his name and little hearts over your spine.

“‘Uh-huh’, who?”

“Daddy!” You screamed with the next strike. Your words melded with the echo of the sounds of your flesh.

Keigo was beaming at you, you could feel it. His wings were puffed up, rippling in time with heavy breathing.

“Good girl, god, dove, perfect,” He leaned down to press a kiss to the back of your head while smoothing a hand beneath your shorts. “You’re just so good. You deserve so much good, you know that?”

You nodded as Keigo shucked your shorts to the ground, pushing up your shirt to leave most of you bare to him.

It felt vulnerable, despite having been in this position before.

“I d-do,” You stuttered, words sticky. “I am good.”

It felt real, for a moment, brightened by the sharp pain that was growing constant from your cheeks.

“God, perfect,” Keigo waxed, grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing. “Here’s what you’re gonna do sweetness— here’s how I’m gonna take care of you today.”

His hand slid between your clenched thighs, pushing them apart and barely teasing your slit, “You’re gonna hurt for me, so fucking good. I’m gonna give you... twenty-five, how does that sound?”

You nodded, an answer Keigo accepted.

“Good,” You could hear his grin. “You’re gonna take each one so well, I know you will, dove.”

The expectation hurt so bad you winced.

Keigo hushed you with a hand to the back of your neck, “It’s alright, I’ll be right here. Just want to break you a little bit, hm?”

You whined this time, shifting your thighs together as Keigo chuckled.

“Maybe a lot, but we’ll see. I don’t want you thinking after this.”

Holy fuck, neither did you. You’d be content to be close to braindead when Keigo was through with you.

Any reply you had was just a warbled moan into the cushion below as Keigo slapped his hand down once more.

“Count, sweetness.”

“O-one.”

Another smack, to the other cheek, flesh growing hot.

“T-two— “

And Keigo didn’t fucking relent.

Each smack was hard, the fat of your ass jiggling and burning against the flat of his palm. The knick of his rings against the soft flesh only added to burn and sting.

Perhaps, in other conditions, Keigo would have built up to the level of pain he was providing. Preamble a bit with some softer touches and sweet words as opposed to relentlessly spanking your ass so hard you swore you could already feel welts forming from the rings he wore.

“T-t— Ten!”

Your voice cracked in your throat, each impact bringing up sprinklings of tears that were rubbed into the couch.

All the harshness of his strikes was in harmony with the sinfully soft way he was touching you otherwise.

A gentle hand running through your hair, mindful of any knots or tangles. His fingertips stroked up and down your neck, nails teasing the thin skin just below your ear. Even the way he rubbed at your flesh between strikes was so fucking tender, despite how his touch made the hot skin boil even more.

Your first muffled sob was what got him going verbally.

“Oh, wow,” Keigo whistled to himself, a sharp-nailed finger running up your spine. “Are you crying already, sweetness? Does this hurt too bad?”

“N-no,” You forced the words out, even as they clung to the back of your tongue.

The confusing feelings and emotions thrumming through you made you want to just let go. The tears mixed with the loving fullness in your chest, all counterpointed by hot pain that was ripping through your nerves from the bruises and singed skin from your ongoing spanking.

Not to mention the slick coating your thighs—

“Seems not,” Keigo clicked his tongue, pausing to run a finger over your slit. “Still dripping for me, even when I’m touching you like this?”

He spanked you again, right over a pre-existing welt.

You sputtered in the cushions, almost sobbing but still trying to hold onto a semblance of your composure.

Keigo could see it in the rigidity of your shoulders. No matter how he pressed into the muscles in time with the strikes he dealt, you just wouldn’t loosen up.

You shook against the cushions below, exertion from holding your arched back clear.

Keigo hummed to himself.

You said you wanted it to hurt, right?

And God, if he wasn’t going to deliver.

In a flurry of motion, Keigo shifted, bringing you with him.

Your cheek remained against the leather of the couch, blood rushing to your head as your ass was thrown up and over the armrest.

Keigo stood up, wings unrestrained and extended. You couldn’t see the angry, red plumage, only the shadow it threw over you.

“Oh, dove,” Keigo waxed. “You just need a bit more, right?”

Another strike.

“F-f— Fifteen— “

“You’ve had such a rough day, haven’t you?”

His words stir something vile in your soupy brain, a whimper leaking through your parted lips.

(Maybe, you were more fucked out than you thought.)

He hushed you with a yank on your hair, forcing your back and neck to bow.

“My dove just needs to know how loved they are, hm?”

You nodded, his grip tightening but you could hardly care. Each spark of pain felt so fucking good, your lingering barriers broke down more and more with each one of Keigo’s touches.

Whether they were that syrupy comforting kind or burning, bruising kind, you couldn’t care or tell. The blend of it all was flooding through you so well, all you could do was blubber out numbers between bursts of tears and ‘more’s and ‘please’es.

“T-we— n— ty!” The syllables felt choppy, maybe, but you hardly cared.

“Good girl, fuck,” Keigo gritted out, palming the front of his trouser. He’d been graciously (read: cruelly) ignoring your dripping cunt as well as his own ache throughout your spanking session.

He’d make sure the two of you were satisfied by the time it was all over.

You did have five strikes left.

“Taps for me, love,” Keigo’s rubbed at your back, hips bumping into your broiled ass.

You gave the leather below a single hard tap.

All good.

“Perfect.”

And with very little reverie, a few of Keigo’s feathers shot from his wings, wrapping around your wrists and ankles, pinning you to the leather.

And with even less reverie, Keigo’s spread your asscheeks wide and spat onto your cunt.

“K-Keigo!”

His name ripped from your throat, mixing with a shriek as the cold spit went clammy against your burning flesh.

“Try again, sweetness.”

The next strike was hard, and Keigo’s hold didn’t shift from your cheeks.

He’d hardened two fucking feathers.

Larger ones, broader enough to strike down at the top of the curve of your ass with a swift flick.

They were so much harder than his hands.

So.

Much.

Harder.

Harsher.

Crueler.

“D-daddy!”

You corrected yourself instantly, clawing into the cushions. Your chest burned as your sobs turned to weepings, your cheeks singeing with each harsh breath.

“Tw— e— nty one!

You barely managed to get the words out before Keigo buried his face in your cunt.

And fuck, did he eat you like the prized meal you were. His words be damned, he had plenty of ways to break you down beyond his verbal praise.

He lapped at the tacky slick on your thighs, licking up to tease at your pussy with the tip of his tongue. The stubble along his chin roughed up your most precious bits, but you didn’t mind.

If anything, you wanted it to hurt more.

For that reason, his feathers could finish the job. They surely had a harder hit than his hands had.

Based on the way you were quaking against him, stammering and blabbering little pleads and adorations, they were doing their job.

Broken little thing, weren’t you?

But that was the point, of course.

“Four more, dove,” Keigo murmured against your folds. “Say thank you with each one, dove. Keep being good for me.”

The command was all you needed, hurriedly nodding into the tear-soaked fabric below.

The feathers struck down again, skin breaking.

“T— wen-ty two!”

Keigo chuckled against your cunt, pulling away only to tease slide his fingers over your clit, “Feeling good?”

“T-Thank you!”

Oh, you were fucking braindead.

Keigo was all too pleased, a few smaller feathers going to prop up your hips as they trembled.

“Good,” His words were muffled by your sex, but neither of you had the mind to care about words. It was all in the soup of sounds that kept you rutting back into his tongue. “Keep going.”

The next strike was so loud, it eclipsed the sound of your own shriek.

“TW— wenty three! Thank you!”

Keigo could feel you wheeze, but no taps came.

No reason not to continue.

His own pants felt tight as he rolled his hips into the side of the couch, eyes rolling back into his head as your cunt gushed around him.

Your entire body was thrumming, pulsing from the inside out with what had to be pain, but you could hardly tell. You were spinning somewhere harsh and fast and you didn’t dare try to rationalize it.

All you could ground yourself on was the slap of Keigo’s feathers and the feel of him eating you in earnest.

It was enough, barely.

The next slap just added to your feelings.

“TWE— EN— ty f-four! T-thank you!”

Keigo pulled away, wiping your arousal from around his lips and scooting around the couch to get a better look at your face.

As absolutely hot as he was, and how desperately he wanted to eat you up until he burst, he also knew he was pushing you fairly hard.

“Sweetness, ready to take your last one?”

Keigo ran his fingers through your hair as your eyes focused on him in their half-lidded position.

“I-I can’t do it, daddy.”

He paused.

You’d have given taps if you wanted to stop, truly. He trusted you on that.

“Yes, you can,” Keigo cooed, thumbing a bit of drool over your cheek. “I know you can.”

“I-I can’t,” You sobbed out, burying your face into the couch. Despite your words, you stayed tense and rigid.

All you needed was a little push.

Keigo took to leaving gentle touches across your back, rubbing out your tension wherever he found it knotted. Your weeping didn’t fully subside, but it certainly quieted as you took gulps of breath was some gentle coaching.

“Can you take one more for me? For your daddy?” Keigo glowed with pride as he spoke, seeing the way your eyes lit up and your head bobbed against the cushions.

“Uh-huh,” You leaned into his touch where you could. “One m-more, f-for you.”

You gave a single tap into the cushions.

Keigo couldn’t help but be proud of you as you readjusted, arch going harsher and deeper.

He’d finished your spanking off with his hand, you earned it after taking so much so well.

The large feathers returned to him, while a single small one drifted between your sticky thighs to part your folds.

Slowly, the plume circled around your clit, lapping at the nub as his tongue would, your juices soaking it all the same.

Even as Keigo laid the most gentle touch on your ass, the throb and burn of it made your whimper and whine.

One more.

Just one more strike and all of that mundane stress and anger would be broken off from you and dissolved in a puddle of your own tears.

“When I give you your last one, you’re going to cum all over that feather for me, dove, understand?”

You nodded, hurriedly, barely grinding against the stimulation.

Keigo wound up, wings extended and full, before putting all of his weight into his swing.

His palm hit your rear with such a crack that it broke both of you.

You screamed, shrieked, as your thighs clenched and gave out beneath you. Any cries you’d be managing to hold back ripped from your throat with the last smack as your cunt clenched and pleasure exploded in your gut.

Barely, you managed to speak through your tears.

“Twenty-f-five.. .. thank you....”

Keigo had to take a moment himself, breathing hard and particularly weak-kneed.

The sweet cry that had torn from your mouth was all he needed to be pushed over the edge, his cock twitching and spurting while hardly even being touched.

He was impressed, with both himself and you.

“God, dove, you did so well for me,” Keigo wiped the salt from his brow, ignoring his creamed pants to slip onto the couch and pull you into his arms.

You were half-lucid, sticky with sweat and arousal but you couldn’t find yourself to care. All you could fixate on was the feel of Keigo’s heat and the ruffle of his feathers as you settled into his lap.

Keigo pressed kisses against your temples and cheeks, positioning your thighs around his own and allowing you to sag into his chest.

You clung to him with everything you had as you spun down from your high.

He whispered little affections to you, small praises and love for doing so ‘well for him’ and ‘how good you took it, took it all’.

A few of his feathers came and went carrying a bowl of fruit, chilled and cut up into bite-sized pieces.

From your haze, Keigo pressed a piece of sweetness to your lips.

“Eat, love, take it,” He purred as you opened your mouth just enough for the fruit to slip in. You chewed slowly, focusing on the flavor and texture before swallowing.

The spare drool that slipped from the corner of your mouth was quickly scooped up by Keigo’s thumb, gathered and popped into his own mouth.

His feathers rippled.

“I feel a lot better,” You slurred into the crook of his neck. “Thank you.”

Keigo chuckled, something high and light that made your guts turn anew. His hand brushed over the meat of your ass, bruised and covered in welts, “You’re welcome, but...”

His touch hurt, but in the best way.

A pleasant reminder.

“How does this feel?”

“Painful, but good,” You hummed, opening your mouth for another piece of fruit. The tartness of the bite brought you closer to lucidity. “You’re too good to me, you know.”

“Flattery, when you’re this fucked out? I’m impressed,” Keigo pulled you closer by the small of your back. “Rest for a little bit, then I’ll clean us up, sound good?”

“Very,” You circled your arms around him, locking your hands just below his wings. “But... ‘us’?”

“I might’ve nutted. Maybe.”

You snorted, but you were quickly quieted by another piece of sweetness and plenty of distracting affection.

Desperately needed, by both you.

....

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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

Text

New Enemies, New Alliances (Sweet Betrayal Part 4)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: Swearing, graphic description of injuries/death, violence, grief, blood, manipulation

Word count: 3,661

(A/N): Things are starting to get spicy, folks!

“Nice job today, I think you’d actually put up a fight in battle now,” Dream grabbed your hand and helped you up. You basked in the compliment, they were few and far between. Now, if you didn’t pass one of the Badlanders by accident, Dream and Lucius were the only ones to recognize your work.

You brushed off your training clothes and smiled to yourself when you saw Lucius move to pat you on the back before stopping himself. He’s been around for a month now and he still isn’t used to not being able to touch anyone. You remembered that when he was alive, physical touch was his love language. It must be killing him to not touch anybody.

“Yeah! I’d hate to be on the other side of your sword, homie!” You have no clue why he started to call you ‘homie’, he hated that word when he was alive. Faintly, you supposed that he must’ve learned it sometime between after he died and when he was looking for you as a ghost.

“Thanks, guys,” you fiddled with the handle of your sword before swinging it over to rest on your shoulder. The walk home was filled with Lucius and Dream exchanging terrible puns, much to your exasperation. Out of all the things he could’ve kept in his personality after he died, it just had to be his love for puns.

As the days passed and the war’s climax drew closer and closer, stress was increasing in the White House. Schlatt had become far more paranoid of traitors in the midst of the remaining cabinet, and truth be told you were also growing more paranoid. It was like you and Schlatt were the only ones completely loyal to Manberg anymore.

Lucius had increasingly grown worried for your well being, always trying to push you to go to bed early and urging you to distance yourself from Schlatt. In your opinion Lucius was insane for even suggesting the latter, Schlatt was everything to you. Without him, you’d be nothing.

“I really don’t-”

“Lucius, drop it,” you hissed out, rubbing your forehead and returning to your work. You needed to get this paperwork done as soon as you could, otherwise Schlatt would have your ass.

“I’m not going to ‘drop it’, (y/n). You need a break! All of this,” he swung his arms around to gesture at your office, “isn’t you.”

“You don’t understand, Lucius,” you bitterly chuckled and threw your quill down onto your desk. The ink that was on the tip splattered over the desk, staining the birch wood black. “This,” you gestured towards the office and walked over to the window. Lucius followed you and looked out at the city. You clasped your hands behind your back and smiled fondly at the sight of the endless buildings. “This is me.”

“I know you, you aren’t this- this brutal or bloody insane!” Lucius tried to put his hands on your shoulders but stopped himself, settling for crossing them across his chest. “You’re caring, funny, ambitious, and most importantly agreeable! Now, if someone even slightly crosses you, your first thought is revenge.”

“That person was a coward through and through. Aren’t you happy that I’m finally standing up for myself?”

“Standing up for yourself? Standing up for yourself? You get stepped on constantly by that ram asshole that you call a father, you call that standing up for yourself?”

You spun around to face him, looking down at his face with a harsh glare, “you have no right to bring Schlatt up, he’s done everything for me while you were just galavanting around the SMP doing Ender knows what! He’s the one that took me in. He’s the one that cared for me. He’s the one who made me who I am today. He’s the one that made me less of a coward.”

“Are you serious? He’s the one that completely fucked up your life! When was the last time he’s said anything that bordered on nice to you? When was the last time he said he loves you? I just want the best for you, (y/n),” he ran a hand through his hair and looked up at you in desperation and frustration. “You wouldn’t be this mentally unstable or this disfigured if you would’ve just stayed away from him like I told you to do when I was alive.”

“You clearly don’t know what’s best for me if you’re too blind to know that Schlatt changed me for the better,” you scoffed to yourself. “That person left the second I killed you.”

You watched as his already pale skin blanched impossibly and his eyes widened in horror. “You- you what?”

So he doesn’t remember his own death? How interesting.

“You don’t remember? You were my first kill, I can still remember the crunching sound your skull made and how warm the blood that splattered on my face was when I drove that pickaxe through your forehead. The power I felt after I came to terms with the fact that I just took someone’s life? Exhilarating.”

You smirked down at his terrified face, taking great pleasure in the fear he felt. He took several steps back from you, almost tripping when his heel caught the edge of the carpet. Grinning, you followed him until he was pressing himself up against the wall. You leaned down close to his ear and whispered, “I’ve never felt anything like it before. You were my first friend and my first kill, kudos to you.”

He ducked out of your presence with haste and distanced himself from you, his chest heaving with panicked breaths. He stuttered out a response, “do you even regret it?”

Regret was something you always pushed deep into your subconscious, “regret is for losers, winners own up to everything they do,” Schlatt’s voice echoed in your mind. You didn’t like thinking about your regrets, however the delicious fearful tone that shook Lucius’ voice was too alluring to ignore. He deserved every single ounce of the fear that racked his body, the argument that had raged on previously still filling you with anger. You’d humor him for now.

You certainly regretted it when you first killed him prior to losing your first life, if losing your first life is anything to go by. You hadn’t even done it on purpose; it was simply a freak accident in an abandoned mineshaft. You didn’t know that when you and Lucius discovered it that you’d leave without him. You could remember exactly what happened that day.

“Luci, wait up!” You pushed yourself to run faster into the cave, chasing the short teenager. He threw his head back and laughed, “catch me if you can!”

You grinned happily to yourself, “I’ll catch you faster than you can say a damn pun!”

You followed him deeper and deeper into the cave, passing different assortments of ores and jumping over crevices along the way. The carefree laughter that bounced off from the stone walls mingling with the slapping of both of your leather boots against the floor.

Despite the sharp twists and turns, you managed to stay hot on his trail. Eventually, he led you deep into a mineshaft. That was where you couldn’t keep up with him anymore. By the time you followed him around a corner, he was nowhere to be seen. You slowly came to a stop and looked around at the dark hallways. This had to be the largest mineshaft you’d ever seen, it was seemingly endless with a labyrinth of twisting halls. You looked behind you only to be met with even more dark halls. You couldn’t even remember where you came from, everything in here looked the same.

In the distance, you heard the hissing of cave spiders and the pitter pattering of their multitude of feet on stone. You swallowed nervously and took out your pickaxe, mentally scolding yourself for not thinking to bring your sword. Every single sound made you jump out of your skin and press yourself up against the wall, preparing yourself to swing at any movement.

Eventually, you gathered the courage to start to wander the maze of hallways. You gripped the handle of your iron pickaxe in a vice grip, ready to kill any mob that would potentially sneak up on you.

“Luci, please come out. I’m starting to get scared.”

You paused to strain your ears for any potential reply, only to sigh to yourself when you heard nothing but cave spider sounds and the faroff dripping of water. With a steadying breath, you ventured further into the mineshaft.

As you passed a hallway, you saw sudden movement from the corner of your eye. Squeezing your eyes shut with a small yelp, you spun around, raised your pickaxe, and swung it down with all your might.

In an instant, you heard a sharp gasp. When you felt your pickaxe make contact with something, a sickening combination of a crunching and squelching noise accompanied the feeling of something warm splatter across your face. You peeked your eyes open to see what mob had attacked you.

Instead of a zombie or… or whatever your mind was expecting to see, Lucius stood there looking at you with his eyes bulging and his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Your hands left the pickaxe and flew up to your mouth as you stepped back in horror at what you’ve done. As soon as you dropped the pickaxe, Lucius’s body dropped with it. He fell to the stone ground limply with a thud, landing on his side with his arms and legs awkwardly sprawled out.

You stood frozen as you watched his body start to convulse before falling still completely after what seemed like hours. Nothing but the roaring of blood in your ears and the obnoxiously loud thumping of your heart in your throat was heard. You finally snapped out of your trance when you saw his body still and started to dissolve in glowing golden dust.

“No, nonononono what the fuck did I just do?!” You dropped to your knees next to his body, feeling icy dread as you saw the telltale sign of death floating from his body. Gritting your teeth, you pressed your hands over his limp arm where the majority of the dust was coming from in a desperate attempt to potentially save him. He was already losing his warmth, you could feel him rapidly cooling under your hands. To your terror, the dust merely slipped through the cracks of your fingers.

Strangled sobs left your mouth as you removed your hands and dragged his upper body onto your lap. You lifted him up and hugged him as tight as you could, once again pressing your hands over the glowing gold, trying and failing to keep his body in one piece. You hated how he was slowly lightning as his body was dissolving.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated to him like a mantra. “I’m so fucking sorry Luci, come back.”

Just before he fully left you, you buried your face into the crook of his neck, praying to whatever gods were above that he’d just wake up and laugh loudly.

“You should’ve seen your face,” he’d tease you, “I really got you good this time, didn’t I?”

He’d then realize just how terrified you were, and he’d then hold you close to him while humming your song over and over. He’d tell you, “turn that frown upside down! You’re never fully dressed without a smile.” He’d put his pointer fingers on the corners of your lips and lift it into a smile, telling you to “fake it til you make it” and that “your smile is your best asset to use against someone.”

You’d ask him in a bout of confusion, “but then you’d be vulnerable! Isn’t it better to just… hide it all?”

He’d give you that dazzling smile of his and gently tap your nose with a finger, “hiding everything behind a smile is better than being a husk of a person. I know there’s a constant happiness deep down in you, I’ve seen it and it’s absolutely beautiful. C’mon,” he’d start to jab your sides lightly, “give me a smile!”

You’d shove his hands away from you with a small, genuine smile. He’d then haul you up to your feet and lead you out of the mines, pulling you behind him as he ranted constantly about what he had planned for you both for the day with his signature blinding smile.

But that didn’t happen.

Soon enough, you were holding nothing in your tight grasp and your face was hovering midair with something coming to rest in your lap. As you pried your eyes open and saw the bloodied pickaxe that laid in your lap and the blood that covered your clothes and slicked your hands, a guttural scream ripped itself from your throat. You’ve never screamed so loudly or so intensely; you were unsure if the copper you tasted in the back of your throat was from your fried vocal cords or from Lucius.

You stayed in that spot crying until you couldn’t anymore. The full reality of the situation hit you as you finally found your way out of the cave after days of wandering. Not knowing where else you could go, you stumbled to Schlatt and Quackity’s house.

The second Quackity opened the door and saw you sobbing and splattered with blood looking like you haven’t eaten or drank anything in days, he immediately took you into their household and sat you on the edge of the bathtub. He was the one that cleaned the blood off from your face with a warm washcloth and held you to his chest after you cried out when the feeling of the warm water was too similar to the blood that had splattered your face days before.

Schlatt had been the one to coax you to eat something after you had passed out in Quackity’s arms, whether due to lack of sleep or nourishment, you didn’t know. Alongside that, he was the first one you talked to about a couple of days into your stay with them.

Though you never told them what happened to your late best friend and what you did to him, they fully supported you and slowly nursed you back to the point where you could keep yourself alive without their constant aid. Whenever you’d have nightmares of the incident, Schlatt would be quick to make you realize that you were in their guest bedroom and not deep inside of a mineshaft while Quackity would stay by your side throughout the night softly humming small tunes.

Though everything came crashing down when Philza showed up at their door one day and drugged you home, your time with them solidified your suspicions that you could be loved.

You blunk, the scene of the blood spattered stone being replaced with your office and the very boy you accidentally killed cowering in the far corner of your room. He was staring at you like you were a starving lion and he was a cornered gazelle, watching your every move vigilantly. You couldn’t blame him, he was in the same room with his murderer after all.

“...I didn’t mean to kill you; I was terrified at the time, I couldn’t believe that I killed my best friend. Hell, I even killed myself because of the guilt.”

Though a brief flash of sadness reflected across his face, he hadn’t budged from his place with his eyes still trained on you, “t-the past doesn’t matter. Do you regret it now?”

You once again paused, the question of ‘do you regret it’ circulating your mind once more. If Lucius hadn’t died that day, you wouldn’t be the person you were today; you’d still be getting stepped on by everyone. You’d still be a coward, a spineless nobody. You wouldn’t be happy.

Though you hated yourself for even thinking about this, you questioned if you were truly happy here. You had everything you’ve ever wanted here: the power that you craved, a surefire means of getting your revenge, and living with the person that had constantly supported you. You couldn’t explain it, but it felt like something was missing. Yes, you’ve felt like that your entire life, but lately it felt like a massive, evergrowing void from deep within your core was swallowing everything within you. Maybe Lucius was right. Maybe-

“Why are you hesitating?!” Your eyes snapped to Lucius, surprised at his outburst. Now instead of the petrified look on his face just moments before, a spiteful one replaced it. “Why the fuck are you hesitating?”

“Lucius-”

A bitter chuckle interrupted you, “the fact that you’re hesitating tells me everything I need to know. I really thought the real you was somewhere deep within you, but you were right! This is the real you... You really are the monster everyone says you are.”

Before you could say anything, he fazed through the door leaving you standing in the middle of your desolate office. It felt like a spike was driven through your heart, you never would’ve expected Lucius to say anything like that. Not Lucius, never Lucius.

The pleasure that coursed through your veins previously during the argument had long since fleeted and been replaced with something you vowed to never feel again: regret. Disgust hit you full force as you remembered the delight and satisfaction that filled you at the sight of his fear. Your first and closest friend that stuck with you through thick and thin, his utter fear gave you pleasure. You really were a monster, weren’t you?

A knock sounded at your door, making you jump out of your skin.

“(Y/n), it’s time for our session.” Dream’s voice sounded through the thick doors. You sighed and looked at your suit, you weren’t even dressed properly.

“I’m not ready yet, I will be in about five minutes.” Your tone wavered slightly, making you hope that Dream wouldn’t comment on it.

“Is everything alright? I’m coming in.”

The door opened to reveal Dream wearing his usual lime green hoodie and his signature smiling mask. His curls bounced as he made his way over to you and examined your face.

“You look like shit,” he mused, “you know, you don’t need that ghost. He’s just been holding you back this entire time.”

“Well,” you crossed your arms and looked off to the side, “he isn’t in the picture anymore.”

He was silent for a moment before he walked over to your couch and sat down haphazardly, gesturing for you to do the same. When you did, he hummed, “you know, Lucius isn’t the only one holding you back from your full potential.”

“Who is then?”

“Schlatt.”

Schlatt’s name sent ice through your veins, your fingers growing numb and your throat drying up.

Just as you opened your mouth to object, Dream raised a finger to silence you. “He can’t even run his own country that he claims to be so proud of. In fact, he’s making you do all his dirty work while he gets drunk off his ass, not even recognizing you for your work. Everything you’ll ever do, even if you half ass it, is always going to surpass him at his best... He’s going to fire you soon, you know.”

You felt truly helpless in that moment, “what? He needs me, he-”

“As soon as the war ends, he’s just going to toss you aside just like everyone else in your life has. Just like Philza has, and now just like Quackity, the Badlanders, and Lucius has. But…”

He turned his head towards you and tilted it slightly. You hesitated before clearing your throat, “but what?”

“I can help you. I won’t throw you out like you’re a piece of garbage; I’m not a brain dead idiot like they are. I see your potential, and you’re going to absolutely thrive if you accept my help.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “...what’s the catch?”

“Ever the vigilant one; so wary of the world at such a young age, so smart,” he chuckled to himself. “What you have to do is simple, not even a moron like Schlatt could fuck it up. I’ll do all the work here, all you have to do is pledge your undying loyalty to me. Of course, you could stay here,” he released a long sigh, “and waste your potential while simultaneously inevitably getting abandoned, or you could break the cycle by working with me and reaching your full potential; I’ll never abandon you like they all did. Are you in?”

He stuck his hand out towards you and held it in the air, waiting for you to seal the deal. You stared at it as you contemplated his offer.

Though the thought of Schlatt throwing you out crushed your heart, you wouldn’t be lying if you said you expected him to do so sooner or later. With his ever growing dependence on alcohol, his judgement has grown increasingly more clouded. The furthest corner of your mind acknowledged that he was going to abandon you sooner or later as the abuse got worse, but your conscious mind refused to even think about him not being in your life.

Maybe it was time to turn a new leaf, Dream had said that you hadn’t reached your full potential yet and everything here was holding you back. You trusted him, he had proved to be a good mentor and a good person during your training sessions. He proved to genuinely care about you.

“Well, are you in or not? I’d hate to see such potential get wasted because someone is stuck in the past.”

You slapped your hand into his and shook it firmly, “I’m in.”

His mask lifted up slightly as he smiled underneath it. He shook your hand and matched your firmness, “excellent.”

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#jschlatt x reader #quackity x reader #dream x reader #dream smp x reader #mcyt x reader #tw: swearing #tw: blood #tw: manipulation #tw: grief #tw: death #tw: injury #tw: violence #sweet betrayal

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caizen · 3 years

Text

doors opened and eyes closed | geto s.

synopsis: you come home before suguru does.

wc: 800+ | not prfr

warning/s: none | genre: fluff, crack

a/n: suguru be my house husband challenge ♡

suguru is used to coming home to a still, quiet home. clean, with everything still in the same place as he left it. what he's not used to is seeing you asleep on the couch.

it sounds—dumb—well it actually is dumb, but it's just because he's always the first one to come home. it's him that you find resting in the living room, maybe cooking something in the kitchen or doing a bit of the laundry or chores. it's you that first leaves home to him, as well as the last to come back.

he insists that you don't have to work that hard, and even quit your job to be his housewife if you wanted! and yet you don't, because you—you don't really know why either, honestly.

perhaps despite the endless, stressful and compiling work, there's a small comfort you find in being able to focus on something; being able to push away most of your unwanted thoughts to the side and they're nothing but forgotten.

eitherway, you weren't going to quit, even if you said that you wanted to do so yourself. you've always been like that. stubborn.

wait—was that the right word to describe it? whether it is or not, suguru loves you for it anyway.

your figure lays lazily across the couch, head on a pillow placed on the armrest. your jaw slightly slacking, allowing a small trail of drool out of your mouth.

he hasn't seen you like this in years.

at that moment, suguru thinks that time does pass too quickly to notice, but seconds pass like minutes into an hour while he silently adores your exhausted face.

he wants to pepper you in kisses.

he restrains himself.

he likes seeing you at peace.

slowly, he sits quietly on the coffee table in front of you, making sure he isn't sitting on anything and that you won't wake up.

his hand hovers by your cheek, reluctant to place it down. before he makes a choice, you've already made yours, more than half-asleep.

you hum at the warmth covering your face, and it's somewhere between lulling you back to sleep or waking up even if you don't want to.

you can pretend to still be asleep, but it's not as easy as it seems, especially when you now know whose thumb grazes your cheek delicately and the soft gaze that won't be leaving your figure for a while.

"long day at work?" he asks when you feel like you're supposed to be the one asking him that.

you crunch your brows together to express your annoyance at him waking you up even more. you press his hand more into your face, turning around and wiping away the drool while doing so.

but as annoying as he can be, you can't deny the fact that you appreciated the question even though he's asked you that yesterday, the day before that, even last month, and it'll probably continue to be the first words he says to you for tomorrow too and up until you're both retired.

with closed eyes, an image of you two, old and wrinkly—holding hands—while you both sit next to each other appears under your lids.

please end this sappiness, you murmur inwardly.

a part of you loved it anyway, and if you told suguru about what you'd thought of, you're sure he'd love it too but wouldn't stop teasing you about it for the rest of your life.

suguru knows you're awake already, so it wouldn't hurt to push your buttons a bit more. he fakes his disappointment. "i'm right here and you chose my hand?"

he feels your cheeks pop up in the said hand, and you're both smiling like idiots.

"they're... pretty," you whisper, intertwining your fingers and giving it a light peck.

they really were pretty.

so you're going that way, he thinks.

a smirk adorns his face as he stands up, while he leans back down to place his other hand right beside your head.

kabedon, but lying down.

suguru was shameless at this point after having done it so many times before to piss you off.

suguru was definitely an embarrassing idiot, but you weren't going to let him win you over and let him embarrass you like this.

"what are you gonna do?" you ask full of courage, looking him dead in the eye as if to assert dominance.

suguru wasn't going to let you win either.

all is fair in love and war.

"what if i kiss you?" he leans into you, noses almost touching.

"you're a coward."

"bite me."

"candy-ass."

with a turn of his head and your fingers clutching onto his hand a bit tighter, your leg pulls up by itself when his lips are against yours.

"is dad home ye—" nanako's mouth hangs open, and so does mimiko's.

their faces scrunch up in disgust.

"at least go to your bedroom!"

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dr3amofagame · 3 years

Note

the amount of angst in the post-prison writing you did just gave me massive post-prison dream brainrot and i'm just. sitting here thinking about how sam dealt with the curious looks and glances and having to face what's he's done as a warden. and everyone else's reaction to everything because hey, maybe the prison WAS a torture chamber that nobody deserves to be locked in to be treated like utter trash.

(btw i love your writing and analysis! they give me so much life :DD)

thank you anon!! this universe is ,, Fun ,, im ngl -> have this continuation of it, w/ sapnap and sam!! it’s a bit messy but oh well

(edit: i added these two asks as well bc they fit and i thought it’d be a bit redundant to rewrite this scene lmao -> the implication that dream’s admissions abt exile mightve been the result of ,, torture is. uh. yikes.)

(This one is DARK, please heed the warnings)

TW: PHYSICAL/EMOTIONAL ABUSE (heavy warning for this one), starvation, toxic relationship, manipulation, references to the prison and exile, c!sam/warden!sam critical, violence, blood, dark themes, emotional distress, child abuse, torture

“Be honest,” Sapnap starts, quiet. “What did you do?”

Sam opens his mouth - hesitates, looks away. He should’ve known that his vague words and half-explanations that had been enough to push away most of the crowd - or at least, postpone the conversation for later - wouldn’t have been nearly enough to convince the man standing in front of him, but a part of him must’ve hoped, anyway. He’s not ready to speak, not ready to admit anything to himself, never mind someone else entirely - but ‘ready’ doesn’t matter, not when Sapnap is right here, waiting.

(He ignores how ‘ready’ didn’t matter for Dream when Sam had gone in, that first time, pick in hand and nothing but questions and rage spinning in an endless cycle in his mind, whirling together into something incomprehensible, insatiable, vicious - he’s not thinking about it.

He can’t think about it.)

“Well?” Sapnap’s voice raises, impatience coloring his tone, and it’s almost enough to draw a chuckle to Sam’s lips - he’d always been a little overeager, not doing well with silence, waiting, even as a kid. It’s part of the reason why he got along with Dream so well, Dream jumping at the chance to spend time with someone that didn’t shut him down for rambling and Sapnap simply excited at the chance to have someone that would join him on his hare-brained schemes instead of dismissing him as a dumb kid- and oh. Right.

The scrunch of his face is the same, Sam realizes, absently, as the expression Sapnap had when he was little; it’s the same crease between his eyebrows, the same slight jut to his bottom lip. Even with a new scar decorating his left jaw and the shadows under his eyes and collection of faint wrinkles belying his stress, he doesn’t look all that different - still looks young, a kid playing dress up in armor too big and too war-torn to belong to him. It’s easy to forget, but even after all the wars they’ve fought, even with all of the combat experience he’s had, Sapnap’s still barely twenty - only a few weeks out of being a teenager.

(He crushes the thought of what that makes Dream - he’s not. Thinking. About. It.)

“Hello? Earth to Sam?” Sapnap snaps his fingers in front of his face, and Sam blinks away the memories, the guilt, boxing it up and filing it neatly away to deal with - later. Never, ideally.

“Are you going to answer my question?”

Only later is now, there’s no escaping this conversation, and Sam. Really doesn’t want to be talking about this, right now. Sapnap fidgets, leaning on his right foot and then his left and then rocking back again - the feeling is mutual, then, but he knows the look in the younger’s eye well enough to know that neither of them are leaving without an explanation leaving Sam’s lips.

(Netherite and iron and smoke, bloodstained pickaxe tipping up a gaunt face, hand reaching around a too-prominent jawline with bruising force - are you going to answer my question, prisoner? Or are we going to have to do this again?

He’s not-

He can’t-)

“I-,” guilt, thick and heavy, circles his throat, chokes the words rising in his mouth. What can he even say? Can words really capture the sweat-slick desperation, the bubbling lava and heat and smoke stealing away all breath and thought, leaving nothing but a humming buzz of rage burning, hissing, begging for release? Can he really describe the endless darkness and weight settling on his shoulders, the hard edges and jagged fear taking anything soft, anything kind? Words swim in the back of his throat, try to reach his teeth, fall short; bloodstained memories haunt the back of his eyelids every time he blinks; there is so much, too much, to say, and yet nothing at all.

How does he even start?

There is no sympathy on Sapnap’s face when Sam looks, but there isn’t any cruelty either, just dark, watching eyes, lips thin and pressed together, jaw clamped shut, tense. Indifference, or a pale imitation of it, meant to hide the mess of his hair, the tremble in his hands, the helpless, desperate thing growing in his pupils. Sam understands and wishes he doesn’t; regrets, and wonders if he has the right, anymore.

“It- started, as an interrogation,” Sam stumbles over his words, stares at his hands because looking at Sapnap’s face will be too much, is too much. “I was angry. The prisoner- Dream- was desperate. That cell-” he shakes his head, remembers obsidian in his hands, remembers tearing away carpet, paintings, plants, remembers leaving the box bareboned, desolate, a cage and nothing more, “It messes with you. Screws with your head. I knew it, he knew it, but I guess we didn’t realize- I guess I didn’t realize-”

(Blood and crunching bone and shrill screams - tell me what you did to him-)

“I needed information. He wasn’t talking. I got- heated, and he laughed, and something- snapped, I guess.”

(I’ll tell you I’m sorry please please sam stop please)

“All I had on me was a pickaxe. He wasn’t talking, I was desperate - angry - I needed to know. I didn’t-”

(I just knew I needed to drag him away, he was ruining everything, he was destroying everything, I just needed him to leave before he brought down the whole damn server with him - the tnt was supposed to be a one time thing)

“It was supposed to be- one time. Was never supposed to happen, at all. But I guess I got mad - for me? For Tommy? I don’t- I don’t know, and it was- easy, you know? Take away the clock, one day. Give him less potatoes the next.”

(It was easy to do it again, I guess, mess with his invitations a little, take some of his stuff. There was nobody around but me and him and he’d ruined so much, he’d messed everything up - I thought that maybe if I took away his armor enough, he wouldn’t be able to go back. He wouldn’t ruin everything.)

“He’d done- so much. He was so awful to Tommy, to everyone- I thought I could prevent that. I thought maybe if I broke him enough, he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone again. I renamed the pickaxe Will Breaker, to remind me, to remind him, I don’t know. I-”

Sam laughs, tired, poisonous, ignoring the way Sapnap whispers, stricken, looking at his hands and seeing nothing but red. Dream’s face, bruised, bloody, but glimmering with something almost like satisfaction comes to mind - and oh. Oh.

(Bloodstained teeth twisted in a bitter smile - Sam, I thought I had to.)

He gets it now. He wishes he didn't.

“I thought- ha-” His hand comes up to his face - he’s crying. When did he start crying? ”I thought I had to.”

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21u004 · 3 years

Text

doors open and eyes closed / geto suguru / march 28th, 2021

suguru is used to coming home to a still, quiet home. clean, with everything still in the same place as he left it. what he’s not used to is seeing you asleep on the couch.

it sounds—dumb—well it actually is dumb, but it’s just because he’s always the first one to come home. it’s him that you find resting in the living room, maybe cooking something in the kitchen or doing a bit of the laundry or chores. it’s you that first leaves home to him, as well as the last to come back.

he insists that you don’t have to work that hard, and even quit your job to be his housewife if you wanted! and yet you don’t, because you—you don’t really know why either, honestly.

perhaps despite the endless, stressful and compiling work, there’s a small comfort you find in being able to focus on something; being able to push away most of your unwanted thoughts to the side and they’re nothing but forgotten.

eitherway, you weren’t going to quit, even if you said that you wanted to do so yourself. you’ve always been like that. stubborn.

wait—was that the right word to describe it? whether it is or not, suguru loves you for it anyway.

your figure lays lazily across the couch, head on a pillow placed on the armrest. your jaw slightly slacking, allowing a small trail of drool out of your mouth.

he hasn’t seen you like this in years.

at that moment, suguru thinks that time does pass too quickly to notice, but seconds pass like minutes into an hour while he silently adores your exhausted face.

he wants to pepper you in kisses.

he restrains himself.

he likes seeing you at peace.

slowly, he sits quietly on the coffee table in front of you, making sure he isn’t sitting on anything and that you won’t wake up.

his hand hovers by your cheek, reluctant to place it down. before he makes a choice, you’ve already made yours, more than half-asleep.

you hum at the warmth covering your face, and it’s somewhere between lulling you back to sleep or waking up even if you don’t want to.

you can pretend to still be asleep, but it’s not as easy as it seems, especially when you now know whose thumb grazes your cheek delicately and the soft gaze that won’t be leaving your figure for a while.

“long day at work?” he asks when you feel like you’re supposed to be the one asking him that.

you crunch your brows together to express your annoyance at him waking you up even more. you press his hand more into your face, turning around and wiping away the drool while doing so.

but as annoying as he can be, you can’t deny the fact that you appreciated the question even though he’s asked you that yesterday, the day before that, even last month, and it’ll probably continue to be the first words he says to you for tomorrow too and up until you’re both retired.

with closed eyes, an image of you two, old and wrinkly—holding hands—while you both sit next to each other appears under your lids.

please end this sappiness, you murmur inwardly.

a part of you loved it anyway, and if you told suguru about what you’d thought of, you’re sure he’d love it too but wouldn’t stop teasing you about it for the rest of your life.

suguru knows you’re awake already, so it wouldn’t hurt to push your buttons a bit more. he fakes his disappointment. “i’m right here and you chose my hand?”

he feels your cheeks pop up in the said hand, and you’re both smiling like idiots.

“they’re… pretty,” you whisper, intertwining your fingers and giving it a light peck.

they really were pretty.

so you’re going that way, he thinks.

a smirk adorns his face as he stands up, while he leans back down to place his other hand right beside your head.

kabedon, but lying down.

suguru was shameless at this point after having done it so many times before to piss you off.

suguru was definitely an embarrassing idiot, but you weren’t going to let him win you over and let him embarrass you like this.

“what are you gonna do?” you ask full of courage, looking him dead in the eye as if to assert dominance.

suguru wasn’t going to let you win either.

all is fair in love and war.

“what if i kiss you?” he leans into you, noses almost touching.

“you’re a coward.”

“bite me.”

“candy-ass.”

with a turn of his head and your fingers clutching onto his hand a bit tighter, your leg pulls up by itself when his lips are against yours.

“is dad home ye—” nanako’s mouth hangs open, and so does mimiko’s.

their faces scrunch up in disgust.

“at least go to your bedroom!”

#unedited #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk crack #geto suguru x reader #jjk

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ranpotario · 3 years

Text

Fear - Fiddlesticks x Fem!Reader

Promt: Y/n has enough of family problems and decides to disappear for a while. What she doesn’t expect is encountering a creature she believed to be a work of fiction.

Warnings: s##cidal thoughts, (i didn’t censor the word in the story, please keep that in mind)

here we go again. i can hear them; they are fighting once more, for the third time this week. at this point i believe they are looking for reasons to argue about. i decided to get my mind off of it all and play some League. i know, it often just causes more stress, but my whole life is a mess anyway.

picking Fiddlesticks may not have been the best idea. he's super difficult to play with and what can i say, he can be a really big struggle for 'beginners' like me. i still need to get used to playing in jungle in general, which is again, a super difficult thing to do. but i went for him. i bought him some time ago but i never really got myself into playing with him, mostly because if how hard he is to control. the team managed to push mid so i had a slightly easier job by focusing on one lane only. this match was more fun than i expected, the huge 'Victory' title made me feel proud after the struggles. i may even consider playing with Fiddlesticks more..

after the match i decided to check on my parents. their relationship was getting floppier year by year. lately i started seeing into things; blaming myself for things was a bad habit of mine, but i couldn’t help it. maybe if i disappeared for a while they would have one less problem.

packing up was easy - they where busy swearing, so they didn’t notice me packing stuff from here and there. i didn’t need much; just a few things to survive for a few days. sneaking past their agressively rised form i reached the door and passed through it, starting my journey. as i was walking down the empty streets, a few things passed my mind. these few days will definately change both mine and their prespectives, but what if i get the opposite result rather than the one i wish for? what am i even trying to do? changing my own prespectives may cause something that i will regret. being insolated from everyone will make it easy to make suicidal attempts. i was close to it before, but i never had the guts to do it in the fear of being caught in process.

but now i fear.. nothing. i have nothing to be scared of anyway. i’m alone. a silent forest without problems. as i come to my senses i realize how dark it has gotten. my instinct was to pull out my phone to use the flashlight; but using up the battery on the first day would be a huge disadvantage. my eyes will get used to the darkness anyway.

as i was walking i noticed the amount of trees around me lessening; before i knew it i was in front of the entrace of a wheat field. i shrugged and kept walking - nobody is securing this place so late at night, right? the more i went further, the tunnel between the two slabs of wheat seemed endless. i tried rising up on my tiptoes to see the end, i even started jumping up and down but i couldn’t see anything. just when i thought about turning back, i heard movement on my left. i turned to look for the source of the sound but all i saw was a stupid scarecrow.

"People still use these things? They are so useless." i said as i finally turned back to return to the forest. but the sight that welcomed me didn’t motivate me at all; the forest was nowhere to be seen, the field looked just as endless as the other side. "Have i really gotten so far?"

but no matter what happened, i didn’t lose my cool. i had nothing to fear after all, i’m completely alone here. well, as far as i know. after a while i decided to flop down on the ground and started unpacking my stuff. i heard my stomach grumble. i took out the apple i stole from the table while i was packing my stuff and started crunching on it. just as i started to relax, a group of crows took off from the field.

"I hope you guys didn’t come for my apple." i said jokingly. as i let out a quiet laugh, i heard a noise again. i stood up and rose to my tiptoe to make sure i was alone. but i once again met with the lifeless form of that creepy scarecrow.

"Wait, was this thing so close before?" after the sentence left my mouth i remembered the LoL match i played today. "Oh my, Fiddlesticks is that you?" i laugh at my own joke, but the smile from my face slowly fades as i see two red glowing orbs staring into mine. i wasn’t scared, i was rather surprised. his body loosened, supporting his weight with one of his many hands in the front. he was still tall enough for me to see him between the stalks of wheat. he didn’t seem to make a move. i know, it’s his tactic in slaughtering enemies. well, at least i die by the hands of a monster i admire and won’t have to do the work myself. some time passed and he still didn’t move.

"How long are you planning to wait? I’m ready." i folded my arms, waiting for a response. he just blinked at me slowly like a lost cow. i let out a sigh and sit back down, continueing to nom on my apple. after some moments of utter silence, he spoke up.

"F-fear? No fear?!" i looked up to him, completely unamused. "What should i fear? Death? It doesn’t matter to me anyway, why should i be scared?"

he started moving closer, his burning eyes never leaving mine. "Matter." he said with a twitch, followed by a few crows landing on his freely standing arms. his word confused me. i didn’t know what he meant. am i going to get emotional treatment from a possessed scarecrow?

i shook my head gently, not wanting to make sudden movements. "I find no value in myself anymore. Life isn’t worth it." i kept looking at the ground but i felt his eyes piercing through me. after a while he crawled next to me and started mimicking my posture; he crossed his metal legs before himself and started leaning down to look at the ground. "Umm.. so why didn’t you kill me?" i asked, looking up to him. he turned towards me dumbfounded with a loud creack of his fixtures. "Help me! Help me!" his screechy voice answered.

i sigh once more, putting the last bits of my apple into the bag i bought for rubbish. "I see no point in keeping on with this conversation. I’m kindly asking you to end my miserable life."

he just stared at me for a second. "Sleep tight." with that, all i saw was black. my wish came true.

To be continued...

#league of legends #league of legends x reader #fiddlesticks #fiddlesticks x reader

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lexiepiper · 3 years

Text

Reflection

Hey @danthectoman, I was your backup Truce gifter! I hope you enjoy this bitter(sweet) Dan thermos fic!

I know my blog’s formatting sucks, I haven’t been able to change it yet, but you can read it on Ao3 or ff if you’d prefer.

There wasn’t much else to do but seethe.

His body, compressed down to mist, strained against the smooth metal walls. He pressed, and prodded, and tried again and again to pop the seal, but it held eternally firm, and he was left with nothing but thoughts in the darkness.

So he softly settled, like low-lying fog across fields, and sulked.

His anger pulsed at first, and every time he thought about things, his core would flare and he would pound himself against the lid once more. Still, it never budged, and he always ended up sinking back into simmering stillness before his thoughts caught up with him and his fury inevitably swelled again.

It was a dark, stagnant cycle, and he didn’t know how long it had been going on until a tiny thought wormed its way through the haze of agitation. Jazz would be disappointed.

It caught him off-guard, and he paused in yet another attempt to break the seal.

She would be, wouldn’t she?

The thought held a bite of anger, and he coiled in readiness to throw himself against the lid again, but before he could lose himself in his rage he managed to picture her. Time had worn her smooth, and she was little more than long red hair pulled away from her face with a teal headband, and fragments of smiles and hugs that always carried more love than he ever felt from anyone else. He pooled again at the bottom of the thermos, trying to fit the glimpses of memory back together. He couldn’t picture her fully, but the more he tried, the more she slid into place in his mind.

His parents followed quickly, and sorrow pricked his core when he realised that he couldn’t remember what his mother’s smile looked like, or the scent of the aftershave that his dad had worn. It had been so long since he’d allowed himself to think about them, and now this tiny effort was far too late.

The deep, hollow ache in his core flared up, like an old wound that never really went away, and he curled in on himself. He wanted to stop thinking about them, to make the yawning emptiness fade into the background once again, but he just couldn’t stop himself… His family sprang back to the forefront, whose faces were blurred by time, and who had never known the truth about him. He wondered if things would have been different, had they known. He tried to picture it — ghost hunting with his parents, or making ectocookies, or trying to dodge Jazz when she ruffled his hair after he had easily caught The Box Ghost yet again.

The imagined scenes brought a fresh wave of pain. He’d never told them, and now they’d never know, because they were dead. They were dead, and it was his fault.

He had no physical body to cry with in the thermos, but he burned with the thick heat of grief, and Dan wrapped his misty form tighter around his core. He stayed there, pressed against the cold circular floor of his prison, while his core trembled and his mind dwelt on the little things that made up the people he’d lost. If he thought about it, he could almost smell Sam’s shampoo, or picture the shape and colour of Tucker’s glasses. He didn’t remember if Jazz’s shirt had been black or white that day, or if his parents had been holding hands when they walked into the meeting. He spared a small thought for Mr Lancer too, but then returned to trying to recall what his mother’s perfume smelled like.

He dug deeper into his memory, and every resurfacing detail felt like pulling out a splinter. It was painful in the moment, but once he stopped fighting the memory, and allowed the thoughts to linger, the pain was not so much that of continual hurt, but more akin to the ache of healing.

Sam’s shampoo had been a vegan one that smelled like roses, and Tucker’s glasses were large half-moons with black frames. Jazz’s shirt was also black, his mother smelled like orange blossoms, and right there at the end, they had been holding hands.

He missed them.

He missed them, and there, coiled as compressed ectoplasmic mist, he realised that he still loved them.

He had no mouth or throat, but Dan’s amorphous body clenched and spasmed in the closest thing to a cry, and he tried to remember as much as he could.

He reached for old memories, of the sound of screeching locker doors, and that his mother would always fold his socks so that the edges lined up perfectly, and how sand felt when it crunched and squeezed between his toes, and Dan realised that his family and friends weren’t the only people he missed.

He missed rain on his skin, and the taste of lime, and the way it felt to sleep in jeans after a long day, and a million other little things that made up the sum of life.

He missed Danny.

He missed himself.

He’d never thought that before, so swept up in the rage of abandonment, and then… then the rage of bloodlust. His core shivered, and he tried not to think about it. He tried to dredge up those nicer, softer memories, of picnics and sunsets and life, but every attempt was swept away by the sheer force of blood-drenched gloves and dying, screaming souls.

He’d started with himself, and then had never stopped… but now that he’d been stopped, and left in a soup can to rot? Now, he had time to think, and the more he thought, the more he remembered.

People had been so easy to kill. At the time, it gave him a rush of excitement, of winning the hunt… but now, if he’d had a stomach, it would have been rolling with bile. Unlike the hazy memories of happier times, he could picture every person he’d killed in crystal clear detail.

They rushed him, breaking through the mental walls that he tried to throw up, until all he could do was cower at the bottom of the thermos and face how each of them had looked in their final moments. Each terrified expression drove shards of revulsion deeper into his core, and these visions continued in an unrelenting wave until he had revisited every single victim, and felt the horror and guilt that had been so absent when their lives had ebbed away beneath his cruel fingers. He didn’t know how long it took, but when it was over, all he could do was lie there and steep in the blood that stained his soul.

He wished he had never done it.

He would do anything to have never done it.

As soon as the thought presented itself, Dan felt a vibration stutter through his prison. The thermos shuddered, and then the compression was gone, and Dan burst out of the darkness into a light that burned his eyes with its sudden intensity after so long in the darkness. He curled in mid-air, pressing the heels of newly-formed palms against freshly-made eyes and hissing in discomfort.

When he finally came to himself, the first thing he noticed was a soft, repetitive ticking. It was strangely familiar but misplaced, like the wrong lyrics being sung to a familiar tune. Dan shuddered, dropping his hands and squinting in the light. His core fluttered with the strain of his unrelenting emotional storm, and if he were a weaker being he might have worried about it collapsing due to stress.

He glanced around, frowning at the sight of a ghost screwing the cap back onto the thermos.

“Who are you?”

The ghost regarded him with red eyes, one of which was struck through by an impressive scar. “You know who I am.”

Its voice rasped like sand shifting, and brought to mind the endless dunes of a desert, eternally changing with the ravages of time.

He did know. “Why now?” Dan snapped, but the snippiness was somewhat lost from his tone as his core heaved with fresh guilt. “When I first learned of your existence, and searched the Ghost Zone, I could never find you.”

The ghost didn’t respond, and Dan shook his head as anger finally began to trickle back into his core. It pushed the guilt aside in its demand to be felt. “You… you hid from me!” he shouted, flinging out an arm for emphasis. “You knew what I would do, but when I came to find you, to… to fix this,” he gestured to himself, “you left me on my own! What did that other Danny have that I wasn’t good enough for, Old Man?!”

The ghost of time rippled, and his form changed into a younger man. “Come,” he said, and floated through an open archway set in the wall.

Dan paused. The room he’d been released into was nothing more than a small alcove, with a pedestal that must have housed the thermos up until now. Frustration bloomed in him, but it was quickly overcome with a spark of disbelief.

He was free?

After so long, it felt impossible. He immediately yearned for open spaces, whether the expanse of the Zone or the wide blue sky of Earth, it didn’t matter. He just had to get out of here.

He could run, but if that strange cloaked ghost with the ticking clock in its chest really was who Dan suspected, then he doubted that he’d get very far. Besides, it’s not like he had anywhere that he could run to, anyway.

Loneliness ripped through him, and Dan clenched his teeth and flew through the archway before the crushing grief could come pouring back. “Hey!” he shouted, speeding to catch up with the figure that was floating leisurely down a long, narrow corridor lined with large clock faces that all displayed different times.

The other ghost reached a door recessed between two massive clock faces just as Dan caught up. “Come, Daniel.”

The simple address struck him like a blow, and Dan recoiled, his hand flying to his chest to clutch at the HAZMAT. “That’s not my name,” he choked. “I’m not… him.”

The time ghost paused with a hand on the ornate doorknob. “Maybe not the way you used to be,” he demurred, “but in many ways, Daniel, you’re still you.”

Dan’s core clenched, and the shadows behind the clocks deepened as his hair flared in an inferno of white flames. “Don’t you get it, Clockwork?” he shrieked, the slight tether of self-control crumbling away. “I killed people! Millions and millions of innocent people! I murdered children, and can still see their faces, and feel their blood dripping off my hands! I am not your precious Daniel!”

Clockwork’s hand dropped back to his side, and he turned so that they were facing each other. His gaze was soft and achingly sad, and the ticking of the clock inlaid in his chest sparked a pang of longing that Dan didn’t even know he could still feel.

He shoved it away. “Why didn’t you save me?” he choked, and his core felt like it would smother him. “You saved him, with your time travel and your second chances. What was so special about him, anyway? Why did he get them back, while I became his lesson?”

Clockwork folded his arms across his chest. The watches lining his wrists flashed in the brilliant light of Dan’s hair. “Saving comes in many ways, Daniel. If I wasn’t going to help you then you’d still be in that thermos.”

“I don’t need your help,” he snapped.

Sad red eyes bored into his. “Don’t you wish that you could take it all back?”

The question pierced him to his soul, and Dan faltered, sinking so that his feet hit the tiles. His knees buckled and he sagged, leaning against the wall and grasping his chest as a half-forgotten sound squeezed where his ribs should have been and wormed its way up his throat and out through gritted teeth. It took a moment to recognise the sob for what it was, and by then, another one had broken out as well.

He tamped down on the emotion, blinking burning eyes and leaning heavily against the wall. “Yes,” he choked. “I… I want nothing more.”

The ancient ghost sighed, and it sounded like the faraway chime of a forgotten clock. “Come,” he said again, reaching for the handle once more and swinging the door open. “You are my ward, Daniel, no matter what form you take. I would fight all powers in the realms to give you peace.”

Dan blinked as an undeniable warmth wrapped itself around his core. “Oh,” he breathed, and for a moment, the pain melted away and he felt like Danny Fenton for the first time in what could have easily been a thousand years. It was nice, but overwhelming in its abruptness, and he sank to his knees. “But… but I’m still half Plasmius,” he managed to say past the swelling comfort that cocooned him like a blanket.

Clockwork shrank until he was in the form of a child, his eyes once again level with Dan’s kneeling form. “Without that half, you’re not stable,” he said, and laid a tiny hand on Dan’s shoulder. “You were stronger, and absorbed him. You have his powers, and his temper, but beneath that, you’re still Daniel Fenton.”

The comforting warmth continued to thicken around him, and Dan screwed his eyes shut and leaned his forehead against Clockwork’s shoulder. “Are you adopting me?” he choked as he recognised the bonds forming between their cores.

He felt the other ghost nod. “Technically, you’ve been my ward for over a thousand years now. I just had to leave you in that thermos until you came to your senses.”

“What, you left me in time out for a thousand years?” Dan retorted, but the words lacked any bite.

Small fingers brushed through his flaming hair, and he forced down a shudder at how unexpectedly nice it felt.

“You needed to experience regret,” Clockwork explained, and gently pulled back from the hug. “You had to want to change the past so badly that you’d do anything. You weren’t going to change until you were ready to.”

Dan leaned against the wall again. He still felt wonderfully warm and cared for in a way that he never had, not even during his distant, fleeting time alive. “I do,” he said, and tried not to think about how cheesy this all was, “and I will.”

Clockwork smiled then, and the scar that slashed through his eye crinkled with the expression. He reached out a hand and Dan grasped it. “Come,” he said, shifting into the form of a young adult and pulling Dan off the floor with the change. “You have some time travelling to do.”

#Danny Phantom #Christmas Truce 2020 #holiday truce 2020 #lexiepiper #dantheectoman

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spicedcinnamoncake · 3 years

Text

Clouds Pairing: George Weasley x Hufflepuff Reader! Summary: You always found clouds to be peaceful, big puffy balls of fluff just drifting across the sky. George often saw you sketching them from the Quidditch bleachers when the Gryffindor team practiced. Who is the mysterious person with a sketchbook? TW: fluffy 💕 3.6k words

‘Dang it!’ You stormed into your dorm and tossed a roll of parchment paper onto your bed. You followed it and buried your face into a pillow. How could you have failed Flitwick’s test? Again?

You had spent so many endless nights studying for that test only to fail it. You pressed your face into the pillow and screamed. Life is so unfair.

You needed to cool off, let out some steam before you burst. You grabbed the leather notebook from under your pillow and a quill and went outside. The quidditch pitch in particular.

The clouds were large and puffy, with faint purple outlines that showed against the china blue sky. You grinned when you saw that the bleachers were empty. You climbed up the stairs to the top and plopped yourself down in a seat in the middle of the row and flipped to a blank page and began to sketch the outlines of the clouds. You immediately felt calmer, watching the clouds drift and feeling the slow motions of your hands as they sketched out the clouds in small delicate strokes made you feel at ease.

After about half an hour of sketching, you heard some noises coming from the Quidditch pitch. The Gryffindor team was setting out for practice. You were slightly annoyed that the silence had faded, but other then that you didn’t mind. You had sketched many times while while they teams practiced, and as long as you didn’t get hit in the face with a ball you didn’t mind.

The sun was starting to go down, casting beautiful golden rays of light that bounced off the clouds. You pulled out a small pack of colored pencils and began to add some color to the picture. Reds, yellows, oranges, slight shades of purple...

“WATCH OUT!’

You whipped your head up and screamed as a bludger was coming right at you. You closed your eyes and prepared for impact, when you heard a bang.

‘You alright?’

Your eyes peeked open. A boy with flaming red hair was hovering on a broom in front of you. The name ‘Weasley’ was plastered on the back of his jersey.

You recognized the beater as George Weasley, he had a slightly rounder face then his twin Fred, and was a bit taller too. His brown eyes gazed into yours and you blinked away shyly. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. You had had an attraction to the younger Weasley twin for some time now, and the fact that he just saved you like a knight and shining armor made you think that you were dreaming.

‘I-I’m ok I guess. thanks’. You said it all in a rush. George just smiled and held out his hand. ‘George Weasley. You are?’

‘Y/N Y/L/N.’ you replied, shaking his gloved hand. He held your hand tightly, and your fingers just seemed to click together.

‘I always see you up here. What do you do up here anyways?’

‘Just draw.’ you said, showing him the sketch you were working on.

‘Wow, that’s really good! I-’

‘Ay George! Come back down mate!’

George turned his head back down to the field. Wood was waving him down. He turned back to you and smiled. ‘I got to go, see you around’

And with that he flew back down. You blinked. What had just happened? Why do you kind of want to throw up? What the heck brain?

You began packing up your stuff and put it in your bag. Looking at the finished picture in your sketchbook, you thought of how messed up your face would be if George hadn’t come to your rescue.

You smiled at the thought of his smiling eyes and comforting voice. You quickly brushed it off when you realized the sudden blush that was slowly filling up your face. The thought of George occupied your thoughts all throughout the evening, more then usual, like your feelings towards him had just gotten stronger. That is, until your best friend Cedric called your bluff.

‘Y/N, what’s up with you? Your awfully quiet today. Anything wrong?’ Cedric nudged your shoulder, pulling you away from your thoughts. ‘What? oh, I’m fine Cedric. Anyways how was that game against Slytherin?’ You blurted this out all at once trying to change the subject. Besides, you were being silly. You just caught George’s attention, talked to him for about fifteen seconds, and you were already getting butterflies for the boy. Why was this happening? It makes absolutely no sense.

‘Come on Y/N, I know somethings up. Spill.’ You sighed. Cedric looked at you with pleading eyes and you couldn’t say no to him. You drew a deep breath and told him all about your near-death experience and how George had saved you. You ranted about how you have had caught the feels for him in third year but you wanted yo ignore it. Cedric nodded, and chuckled at how red in the face you were. You elbowed him in the chest and proceeded to pick at your food. ‘Come on Y/N, that’s perfectly normal. Don’t stress about it, do something to take your mind off it.’

You sighed and considered his words. ‘Thanks Ced, i needed to here that.’ But the feeling didn’t leave you. You wanted to disappear into the sky and turn into stardust, just floating amongst the stars and planets.

----------------------------------------------time skip----------------------------------------------- You clutched the folded paper in your hand, peeking at the drawing you finished yesterday. You had scrawled George’s name across the bottom with a ‘From Y/N’ on the top. You drew a breath and walked over to him in the hall. You two had potions together and you wanted to see if you could catch him before class. You gingerly walked over to him and tapped his shoulder. He was much taller then you, and when he turned around you instantly felt your knees weaken.

He smiled at you and brushed his red hair out of his eyes. Your heart fluttered. ‘Hey, your Y/N right? good to see you again.’ He grinned at you. You noticed the significant amount of freckles around his nose and splattering on his cheeks. You snapped out of your daze and cleared your throat. ‘Yeah, that’s me. I uh, just wanted to give you this.’ You shoved the paper into his chest and dashed off. What the heck was that! Rude... You mentally scolded yourself as you entered the potions classroom.

George opened the paper and grinned. He ran his fingers over the outline of the beautifully drawn clouds and traced the colored lines. The contrasts of blues yellows and purples all blended beautifully together. He smiled at the name scribbled on top and smirked.

‘Ay Georgie! What have you got there?’ Fred came up from behind George and slapped him on the shoulder. George quickly stuffed the paper into his robe and turned around. ‘Nothing Fred, what’s up with you?’

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

You couldn’t stop stealing peeks at George during potions. At once point you caught his gaze and held it. His brown eyes staring into your Y/E/C eyes.

The weeks had gotten longer and more frustrating as your crush on George Weasley grew stronger. Every single wave or “Hello” in the hallways made your heart flutter. Cedric has been telling you and telling you over and over to just ask him out or something, or else your feelings will just keep eating at you until something bad happens.

‘Fine, if you won’t do something about it then i will.’ Cedric concluded, taking another sip of his pumpkin juice. Your face turned red and you shoved him. ‘Ced, please don’t do anything.’ Your nose scrunched up with embarrassment. ‘There’s nothing you can do to stop me Y/N, i can and i will talk to him for you.’

Merlin. If Cedric did do anything about the matter, you would give him the biggest hug ever after chasing him around Hogwarts with a hippogriff.

You needed to cool off and get your mind off of things for a while. Curfew wasn’t for another hour, so you still had time. You grabbed your sketchbook and went back to the quidditch pitch. Nobody had practice around this time, so you decided to lay right in the middle of the sand.

You sighed as you opened your book to a blank page. You tried sketching a hippogriff from memory, you had seen them in many books about magical creatures and always found them fascinating.

You heard footsteps crunching in the sand behind you. Tensing as you turned around, your shoulders went weak as you saw the tall figure hover above you. ‘Mind if i sit here?’ George asked, pointing at the space next to you.

‘S-sure, go ahead’. George grinned and sat down next to you in the sand, causing a small cloud to rise from the ground. He smelled like evergreen, with a hint of cinnamon. His brown eyes shined in the late sun. He peered at your sketch book and you blushed furiously as he looked up to you. ‘wow, that’s really good. Hippogriff right?’

You brushed a lock of hair out of your face and swallowed. ‘y-yeah. They are really amazing creatures.’

‘i bet,.’ You racked your brain for something clever to say, but all you could come up with was , ‘so what are you doing out here?’ George turned to you and looked down, making eye contact. ‘i was taking a walk. Plus, a little birdie told me you would be out here.’

Cedric. Dang it Ced.

You felt your chest tighten. George started to talk more and you found yourself talking back. You quickly felt comfortable around him, and he seemed to notice. You two talked for what seemed like forever. You showed him how you sketched, and he seemed really interested.

‘I really liked that picture you gave me, your brilliant at art Y/N.’ You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you smiled. ‘Just a little thank-you gift for saving my face the other day.’ George smiled as you giggled. The bell for curfew rang and you sighed. ‘dang it, time to go already?’

‘aw, miss me already?’ George poked a finger at your shoulder and smirked. You rolled your eyes and smiled. His cheeks were slightly pinker then before, but you brushed it off. ‘Maybe’. You leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek before gathering up your stuff and skipping out of the quidditch pitch. you looked calm, but your mind was buzzing and your heart was racing like a machine that was given too much horsepower.

Had you really just done that? Did you just kiss George Weasley? Well, it wasnt exactly a proper kiss but it was still a KISS.

You ran into the hufflepuff common room and pulled Cedric into the hallway and threw your arms around his shoulders. ‘Thankyou thankyou thankyou!!’

Cedric hugged you in return and laughed at how red your cheeks were. ‘Mind if you could set me up with Cho?’

‘with what you did for me, i’d convince her to date you for all i care. Thanks Ced.’

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You and George had been seeing each other a lot more since that day on the Quidditch pitch. He even bothered to walk with you to a few of your classes. It made you feel special. You liked the way he teased you in the halls, not in the annoying way, but in the sweet way. You noticed how sometimes he got flustered when you slid your hand into his or when you playfully punched his shoulder. His cheeks got considerably redder when you were around, and you noticed it.

You guys became friends, but Cedric kept calling it “Friends with benefits”. You always blushed hard when he said that, but you still liked hearing it. You thanked him nearly everyday since he told George about you in the quidditch pitch. You managed to return the favor and got Cedric a date with Cho to Hogsmeade.

‘Speaking of which, she asked me if i wanted to go with her again next weekend’ Cedric said, beaming. You two were by the fire in the Hufflepuff common room trying to get through some herbology homework. Your ears perked up at this news. ‘Dang Diggory, you scored her.’ Cedric laughed and suddenly got flustered. ‘I uh, may have told her that you and George would come with us...’

You stopped writing, quill hovering above the parchment as you turned your head slowly to Cedric, like a dog looking at it’s prey.

Cedric laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair. ‘i may have told her it was going to be like a double date...’ You huffed out of your nose and threw a pillow from the sofa at his head. Everyone looked at you before going back to their own things.

‘Ced what the heck! why would you tell her that!? Oh merlin i’m going to have to ask George myself now aren’t i? What if he says no or i screw up or-’

Cedric pushed a pillow in your face to shut you up. You huffed and resumed writing your parchment. ‘I’ll ask him tomorrow. Hope your happy Diggory.

‘Never better Y/L/N.’

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You took a deep breath as you went up to George. He smiled when he saw you. ‘Hey Y/N, ready to go?’ He was walking you you to potions like he did every morning. You made conversation before dropping the question.

‘Hey, um, George? Would, would you like to go with me to Hogsmeade? Cedric is going with Cho and he invited us to go with them... if you want to obviously.’ You stammered this out as quickly as possible, blush creeping up onto your cheeks as the redhead looked down at you. He simply grinned and slid his hand into yours, intertwining your fingers in his own. His hands were soft, and held onto yours firmly. You felt safe in his grasp. ‘Of course i’d love to go with you, Y/N.’

Your heart fluttered and you felt relieved. You had been so worried that he would say no or think that you were some sort of weirdo. It’s like a weight had been lifted off your chest. Wait, are you overreacting? Maybe-

The day for the Hogsmeade trip finally rolled around, and you woke up with butterflies. You had planned your outfit the night before and got dressed after waking up. You wore a gray T-shirt with your favorite muggle-band name plastered on the front. You slid into your jeans and laced up your boots before grabbing a sweater off your bedpost and going down to the common room to meet Cedric. He looked good in casual clothes, you were so used to either seeing him in his robes or in his quidditch jersey.

‘Dang Ced, you look different’ you smirked, eyeing the nervous look in his eye. ‘so do you Y/N. come on, our dates are waiting.’ he winked and you rolled your eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

Cho looked amazing in her cream sweater and pleated skirt. She linked arms with Cedric and they began talking. George looked amazing- all chilled and casual. He had on loose jeans and a T-shirt that had the gryffindor symbol on it.

He blushed as you walked over to him. ‘wow. you look amazing’ he took your hand in his own, and you giggled and blushed. Maybe Ced was right about being friends with benefits.

The four of you walked behind the rest of the group, laughing and talking about school and lessons. After practically emptying your pockets at Honeydukes, you went to the three broomsticks for butterbeer. You loved how the warm beverage tasted in the crisp autumn air. It Felt so cozy in the three broomsticks, warm drinks, friends, resting your head on Georges shoulder....

wait what

You snapped your head up and turned red. ‘Y/N, you alright?’ Cho asked, taking another sip from her mug. you looked up and nodded your head vigorously before looking down at your boots. George squeezed your hand before leaning over and whispering; ‘it’s alright, i don’t mind it.’

You looked up and smiled, resting your head in the crook of his neck. The afternoon wore on and before you knew it it was already time to start heading back to school. You were sad that the day was ending, but you had had such a wonderful time you didn’t dwell on it.

Cedric went to go walk Cho to her dorm, and George walked you up to yours. You invited him up into your dorm but he politely declined, saying that he had to go to a meeting for quidditch that Wood was holding in the Gryffindor common room. You didn’t mind, you understood perfectly.

‘well, it was nice spending the day with you, George.’ you said before slipping into the hufflepuff common room. George grabbed your arm before you went all the way in a pulled you back outside, running his hand through his hair nervously. ‘something wrong?’ you asked, eyes widening as he gulped.

‘i was just wondering if you would meet me in the garden tomorrow before dinner. like, like a date maybe? just you and i?’ he asked, nervously chuckling at the end. he looked down at his boots before you cupped his face and pulled him in for a quick kiss. Just a small, sweet kiss on the lips. Georges eyes widened and kissed you back. You pulled away. ‘sure, its a date.’ you winked and then disappeared into the common room.

George was stunned. He stood there for a moment, rubbing his jawline were your delicate hand was moments earlier. He grinned and walked back to his own common room, blushing and smiling. Fred sure was going to have a laugh about this.

You dashed up to your room screamed into a pillow. You had no idea what came over you. You just, had the urge to do it. And the fact he kissed you back? You felt like you were on a rollercoaster. up, down, sideways, kiss a boy, up again, a long emotional train.

You couldn’t wait until tomorrow afternoon. as soon as your last lesson finished, you’d be at the gardens with George Weasley. Whee!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The next morning at breakfast you were practically bouncing in your seat. Cedric noticed, but didn’t poke any fun at you. He himself had been awfully quiet as well, maybe something happened with Cho? Probably, he was awfully red.

You stole a quick glance at George, who was eating by his brothers, Harry and Hermione. George looked up and caught your eye. He winked at you and smiled. Fred followed his eyeline and began to laugh. George elbowed him and you giggled. Couldn’t time go faster?

Potions, charms, care of magical creatures, herbology, DADA,

Finally; the last lesson ended. You hurriedly packed up your quills and parchment and rushed to your dorm to drop them off. Once you caught sight of yourself in the mirror you stopped dead in your tracks. Sheesh, talk about bad hair.

After yanking on your hair for a bit, you dashed down to the stairs and outside. George was sitting on a bench near the shrubs. Once he saw you, he stood up and clutched your hand. ‘Didn’t think you would come’. you grinned and squeezed his hand. ‘wouldn’t miss it.’ You went to sit back down on the bench but George shook his head. ‘this is just the meet up place, not the actual location. That’s a surprise.’

You grinned and let George lead you out of the castle and near the black lake. He put his hands over your eyes and walked behind you, leading you to this mysterious area. It was grassy for one thing, you felt it scratch against your ankles as you walked. ‘You aren’t planning on murdering me are you?’ You asked playfully. He just laughed.

‘Almost there, don’t worry.’ George said as he loosed his grip on your eyes. He pulled away, allowing your vision to adjust. you blinked rapidly, adjusting to the soft sunlight. There was a checked picnic blanket spread out in the grass near the black lake. It was simple, sweet, you loved it. You turned around to see George nervously running his fingers through his hair again, which made him look cuter. You smirked and ran over, hooking your arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. You felt his arms wrap around your waist and you buried your face in the crook of his neck. You felt his hands slide under your knees and he picked you up.

You laughed and pulled away, looking down at him. George was smiling from ear to ear. He put you down and you guys walked over to the blanket and sat down. ‘I was thinking about how much you told me about clouds, so i found this spot so we could watch them together.’ he said, slipping his hand into yours and squeezing it. You grinned and lay down next to him. The clouds were beautiful.

George propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at you. You smiled as he stared into your eyes and brushed a strand of hair out of your face. ‘Y/N, i need to confess something... i really, REALLY like you, and i have wanted to tell you that for so long. would you- would you perhaps want to be my girlfriend?’

George looked so nervous it was cute. You put a hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek. ‘of course i would, you dummy. i like you too.’

He smiled widely, and leaned in to kiss you, while the clouds drifted above your heads. This, was the most perfect setting you could ever imagine.

#harry potter #hp fanfic #fanfiction #geoge weasley #george wealsey x reader #fluff #fluffy #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fluff

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

82, Sternclay, NSFW if possible? Ty so much for all your great fics <3 -☀️

You’re welcome! I hope you enjoy the fill. It’s NSFW, and involves mating cycles, because my A03 stats suggest a lot of y’all like that.

82. you knock on my door at 2 in the morning because your very white cat got out and you need help trying to find them in the three feet of snow we have

He has no one but himself to blame.

Stern is always so careful about shutting the doors in this cabin, as the old hinges and worn frames can send them swinging open when coupled with a strong wind. He thought he had that same care when he came in with more firewood from the basement, which can only be accessed through by going out of the house and then down to the locked door.

Apparently not. At one, he went to check on Yeti and found the back door open and the faintest shape of feline paws leading into the darkness.

They’ve got two feet of snow on the ground, with another foot forecasted to fall by morning. And Yeti is sleek and snow-white.

He’s wandered the perimeter of the house, left her favorite blanket out on the covered porch, and tried in vain to follow the tracks, filled in by the falling snow. He’s been outside for an hour now, with no sign of her. Not even the jingle of her collar in the cold air. He’s shivering, but he can’t stop the search; Yeti is out here, cold and scared and it’s all his fault.

As he’s crunching through the snow, warm light spills onto the trees. His neighbors (a loose term out here) house. He couldn’t stand waking Barclay up to help him, but if he’s already awake…

Stern raps on the door, and four seconds later it opens, his neighbor looking like a lumberjack centerfold given life, even in his sweatpants and brown sweater.

“Joe? Is something wrong?”

“It’s Yeti, she got out without me noticing and I can’t find her, I’ve been out here an hour and there’s no sign. I, um, I know it’s a stretch but can you help me look for her? We can cover more ground that way.”

Barclay gives a small, worried smile as he nods, “Yeah, of course, lemme get enough on so that I don’t freeze and I’ll join you.”

He waves Stern inside, passes him a box of tissues before disappearing upstairs. Here he’d hoped the tears from his brief panic and self-blame spiral hadn’t left evidence. He’s good in a crisis, has handled much more stressful incidents with grace and calm. But for some reason every time he musters up those emotions, gult rips them to shreds. Yeti is his to look after, he’s supposed to keep her safe, and one careless move has her out in the woods, in freezing weather, with predators, or thin ice, or, or, or-

His brain is excellent at generating contingency plans on the fly, but tonight it directs that ability to making him think about all the bad things his error could cause.

“Okay, got my headlamp so I can keep my hands free. You got a light?”

Joe holds up his flashlight.

“C’mon, let’s go find the Yeti.” They set off side by side in the snow, “where do you want to look?”

“Fan out near the creek, I think. The snow isn’t as deep there, so she might have gone that way because it was easier to move.”

“She’s a climber, right? So how about this; we go on either side of the creek, you look on the ground and I’ll look in the trees?”

“That makes sense.”

It’s slow going, both of them being meticulous, shining their lights on every branch or under every bush. Stern’s always appreciated how careful Barclay is; he assumes it comes with a profession where being messy slows you down, but the first time he saw his well-organized kitchen his heart did a little dance of delight.

In the month and a half he’s lived here, the cook invites him over at least twice a week to try out a recipe. He works at Amnesty Lodge in the nearby town of Kepler, and spends some of his nights there. Still, he’s at his cabin often enough that Stern’s been able to invite him over some evenings. Though it’s odd he’s up so late on a work night.

“Do you not have to go in tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’m taking this week off. I have some vacation time and when I get back it’ll be the holiday break rush until New Years. I got caught up in the latest Agent X novel and didn’t see how late it was until you knocked. How about you, staying up researching again?”

“Yes. I was trying to keep the fire going because it’s nice to work in that little living room but, um, going out to get the wood is how she got out. If I’d just gone to bed-”

“Whoah, hey, none of that.” Barclay stops, turning to face him, “shit happens, even when you’re careful. This isn’t your fault, Joe.”

“I know. It still feels that way.” He starts forward again, feet freezing in spite of his snowboots (chosen for optimal weight to insulation ratio). Part of him wants to keep talking, because Barclay is interesting to talk to, his years playing “Lodge dad” giving him endless anecdotes and the ability to be honest without being cruel.

It helps that his baritone voice makes Stern think of brown sugar; rich, complex, just the right kind of sweet.

After a solid hour of searching, Stern is so cold he’s having trouble getting words out. Barclay sets a big hand on his shoulder, guiding them towards Sterns cabin.

“Joe, you’ve gotta take a break. Worried your lips are gonna go as blue as your eyes, and then tonight will really suck.”

“But I haven’t found her.”

“And you won’t if you freeze to death or get so chilled you can’t think straight. At least sleep for a few hours.”

Stern’s about to protest as they reach the door, but then his knees buckle and he slumps against a broad chest.

“I’ll do one more spin into the deeper woods on my way home, and leave some blankets out on the porch in case she makes her way to me. She’s smart, just like her owner; I think she’ll get home okay.”

“Right. Okay. We’ll be okay.”

Barclay hesitates mid motion, then pulls Stern into a hug. Stern is not small, and at Six feet zero inches he’s used to being the tallest person in a room. Barclay always feels like he’s dwarfing him, though right now that’s the most comforting sensation in the world.

“I’ll check by in the morning.”

“Thank you, for everything.” He mumbles into Barclay’s scarf.

“Any time, Joe.”

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

Barclay waits until Joe is inside and the upstairs light switches on to leave the back porch. God, it’s so fucking cold tonight. He doesn’t blame Yeti for getting curious, but she could’ve picked a less awful time to do it.

He’s glad the other man came to him for help; he hates the idea of Joe out here alone and stressed, searching carefully and kicking himself the whole time. He’s glad Joe took the suggestion to sleep.

He’s glad the other man came to be his neighbor.

Ironically, they’d met when Joe came over and asked to borrow a cup of sugar. The dark-haired man was short on what he needed to cook, and Barclay was happy to supply it. It’s not everyday a cute guy asked him for some sugar.

They ran across each other in town, and Joe even came to eat at the Lodge, usually at off hours where Barclay had a chance to talk. That’s how he learned Joe was here to research a recent Bigfoot sighting.

“I used to be in the FBI, investigating the same thing. Then I got so frustrated, no one really believed in the possibility of unknown creatures, and the few who did saw them as having some sort of use to the department of defense. Great idea, find something so rare it’s existence is unproven, and then lock it away or blow it up.” The sip of coffee is more aggressive than usual.

“Won’t they get mad if you spill their secrets?” It was only half a joke.

“I doubt it. They weren’t too interested in my theories when I worked there; odds are they’ll keep an eye on me a little while and then ignore me. Unless I find Bigfoot, of course, in which case they may want me back. I’m not interested, from now on I monster hunt in the name of science.”

Barclay hopes Stern never finds Bigfoot and stays in his cabin, writing and researching and consulting and coming over to Barclay’s for dinner twice a week. He has a whole menu in his mind titled, “foods for seducing Joe” that he’s going to whip out in the next few weeks, he swears it.

He’s been swearing it for two weeks.

Joe is sophisticated, smart, has really good taste in books and food, and Barclay feels so listened to when they talk. Barclay starts blushing whenever Joe smiles at him, which would be embarrassing except Joe does the same thing whenever Barclay drops his voice a little. Besides, he likes it when Joe smiles.

Barclay would give anything to make Joe smile tonight. Which is why he’s tromping into the spot where they lost the last of Yeti’s footprints. He stands, listening for any sign of human life.

Then he slips the woven bracelet off his hand, and his foot-prints almost double in size.

It’s a bad idea, he’s not all that far from other houses or the road, but in this form his sense of smell is twice as strong and his night-vision a bit sharper. It’s also the reason he’s taking this week off work. Yes, he likes to rest up before the winter rush; but his heat, which comes ever fourteen years, is due in the next few days. He’s actually a little worried turning into his Sylph self will make his brain fuzzy enough to forget his mission. So he reminds himself, as he tromps through the growing blizzard, that he is doing this for the person he’d most like to impress in this world, and that does the trick.

A whiff of the same, non-human scent he stole a noseful of when hugging Joe catches his attention. He follows it to a disused burrow, gets down on his belly, and finds reflective eyes blinking back at him.

The animal hisses.

“Man, please be Yeti and not a bobcat. Duck’s gonna fucking kill me if I harass the wildlife.” He reaches into the burrow and hears a telltale jingle. Yeti, surrendering to her fate, goes limp in his hold. When he puts her against his chest she chirps, curiously sniffing him. As soon as the bracelet is on she blinks once, then purrs as he bundles her into his coat. She’s cold and damp, but she’s in one piece.

“C’mon cousin, let’s get you home.”

The lights are all still one, and the front door is wedged open the exact amount a cat would need to get inside. He steps in, kicks the wedge free and shuts the door. The fire is low, and there’s no sound of anyone moving around.

“Joe? Whoa, careful Yeti, I know you wanna get warm but we should show him your okay.”

“Mew!” Yeti bites the fringe of his scarf.

He tries again, “Joe, you still up? Got someone for you?”

A scuff and groan from the kitchen, “Huh? Oh, shit, I fell asleep, one second”

Yeti shifts her focus while Barclay is distracted. In one graceful leap she rips his bracelet away, lands, and bounds to the kitchen.

“Yeti! Thank the lord, there you are my little cryptid, I was so worried about you, don’t ever do that again, thank god you’re okay.” Joe’s voice goes muffled, as if he’s holding the cat to his face and talking into her fur. Barclay is frozen, not wanting to be seen but even less wanting to have Joe spot Bigfoot dashing into the trees.

“What do you have--Yeti, it’s rude to take things from the man who saved you from being-” Joe rounds the corner, cat in his arms, and gasps. Yeti, uninterested in the unfolding drama, tumps to the floor and scampers upstairs. Joe’s hands fly over his mouth the instant she’s no longer in them.

“Hey” Barclay waves.

“What the fuck?”

“I’m, uh, I’m Bigfoot.”

“What the fuck?” Joe isn’t moving, and Barclay decides now is his best chance.

“I’m just, uh, gonna go get my bracelet back.”

“No, you’re going to explain everything.”

“I really, really can’t, some of it isn’t mine to explain. I mean, uh, I can explain some bits later-” He creeps toward the stairs. Joe steps in front of him.

“Barclay, this can’t wait. You, you’ve been him the whole time, my entire world view is simultaneously being proven and flipped over, would you please just talk to me?”

“Mew?” Yeti is halfway down the stairs, watching them with the bracelet still in her mouth. Without breaking eye contact, Joe reaches up and out, plucking it from her teeth.

“You’re not getting this back until you explain.”

“Babe, please, I promise we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“No, wait, what did you call me?”

“Uhhhh” Barclay lunges for the bracelet instead of answering. Stern twists out of the way, sprinting for the kitchen. Barclay gets an arm around his waist and yanks backwards, sending them both over the back of the couch. Joe elbows him and scrambles up. Barclay only just manages to block him from going up the stairs, stalks him back onto the rug and tackles him. It succeeds in bringing the man down and keeping him pinned.

It also sends the bracelet flying onto the floor, where Yeti snatches it up and disappears up the staircase.

Barclay realizes he’s growling, stops so that he won’t frighten Joe, only for it to start up again as a reflex.

“Barclay, I swear, if you hurt my cat-”

“I won’t, I, that’s what not that noise is for. Or, uh, I mean I’m pissed you played keep-away with something I need, but I also have some bad news about Sy--uh, Bigfoot biology. Uh, so, first thing: I have a heat, which is why I was trying to stay away from people. Second thing: my kind uses a very intense game of, uh, chase as part of courtship.”

Stern shifts his thigh, “That explains what I’m feeling.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Look, can you go get the bracelet and then we can, like, have some tea and talk about this? I’m sorry, I feel so bad for making you deal with this.” The growl rumbles up again. He gears up another apology when he notices Joe’s blue eyes getting wider.

“Is this, um, only because of your heat? I mean, if you tackled some passerby, would the same thing be happening?”

“No.” Barclay squeaks.

“Then I’m not seeing how this is a bad thing, big guy.” He grinds his thigh up, making Barclay yip and pin him to the rug while touching as little of him as possible.

“Joe, this doesn’t make me like, mindless or anything, but if you say you want this you are signing up for several days of as much fucking as I can manage.”

“I don’t have any deadlines.” Joe’s eyes remain fixed on Barclays crotch.

“I’m serious, if you say stop I will, but if you don’t you won’t be able to get out of bed for days. And, uh, I can put my disguise back on, you don’t have to fuck me like this, I know it’s weird.”

“Barclay, I built my life’s work on weird.” Joe pets his arm.

“Yeah but not on fucking it.”

“How do you know? Lots of my time with the UP is classified.”

“Joe…” it’s a warning, the heat in his brain suggesting a dozen things to do so the human can’t be touched by another cryptid ever again.

“I want you, Barclay. In both forms. As long as you promise we’ll talk after, I’m okay with doing this first.”

“I promise”

“Good, because otherwise I was going out to see if there’s another bigfoot in the area who was interested.” Joe smiles, moves to pull off his shirt. He doesn’t get to; Barclay snarls possessively and drops onto him, biting his neck and ripping his clothing into a flurry of fabric scraps. The human moans, gasps when Barclay makes short work of his own pants and reveals what’s waiting beneath. Barclay doesn’t give him time to process, shoves his legs as far apart as they’ll go, and finally sinks into him.

“JesusfuckingCHRIST, ohfuck, ohmyfuckinggodAH!”

His cock is more thick than long, splitting the human open while bottoming out on every thrust. Joe’s fingers knot into the rug, his words morph into sharp, ecstatic sounds. Every creature in the forest can probably hear him.

Barclay clamps his hand down over the humans mouth, “shut up babe, don’t want anyone else in the woods getting any ideas about how good a fuck you are. You’re fucking mine.”

A muffled moan and, when he pulls his hand back, “Y-you really think I, fuck, I can keep quiet when you fuck me like this?”

“Thought they taught FBI agents discipline” he drags his claws across Joe’s chest, relishing the shaky, happy noise that gets him.

“There’s discipline and, AAHnnn, there’s inhuman restraint.”

Barclay slams the hand down again and growls, pleased, when Joe’s posture turns submissive.

“Here’s the deal; you keep quiet and take it like a good mate, and after I cum in you, can be as loud as you fucking want, because anyone who gets near you’ll know belong to me. I mean” he jerks his hips, “they’ll be able to tell that from the fact I’m balls-deep in you too, babe.”

Joe nods, replaces Barclays hand with his own as the Sylph hooks his knees over his shoulders. The next minute goes in a heat haze, his brain and body united in the desire to cum in Joe, to claim him, while the human stifles his screams and grows slicker with each thrust.

He tips his head back with a howlgrowlpurr as he cums, leaving faint clawmarks in Joe’s legs as he holds them open to make sure he takes every bit.

“Lord almighty” Joe’s hand falls to the floor, “that, that was amazing, why on earth were you acting like this isn’t something I’d waaAAAAAntohgod.” He whimpers as Barclay starts up again, fucking his cum up into him.

“Shoulda known you’d like it; you’re perfect, Joe.”

A blush and a shy moan, and he leans down to kiss him gently.

“You are. You’re the perfect man, the perfect mate, and we are gonna have so much fucking fun together.”

“And fun fucking?” He looks pleased with the wordplay.

He snorts, “Glad to know that sense of humor sticks around when I’m filling you up, oh, ohfuckyeah” another orgasm hits, milder this time.

“Are they near constant when you’re in heat?” Joe eyes the trail of cum sliding back down Barclay’s cock.

“No, just easy to have. So” he flips the human over, squeezing his ass appreciatively, “let’s try it from behind this time; wanna find out how it feels to cum in you while I get you off.” He slips his hand over Joe’s thigh and between his legs, “and you better fucking do it too, of I’ll drag you outside and fuck you against a tree so anyone passing by can see how fucking eager you are for me.”

“Please, we’ve spent so much time outside tonight.”

He thinks as kisses along Joe’s shoulders, “You’re right. I’ll fuck you against the door instead.”

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

When Stern wakes up, snow is falling in the grey light and his clock reads 2:30 P.M. Downstairs there’s a homey clink of pots and pans, and the smell of coffee winds it’s way to him.

He fell asleep around five, he thinks, when the cumulative exhaustion of his day overpowered the thrill of being with Barclay. Honestly, he’d have kept going, but Barclay was adamant he rest. So they finished with him fucking Stern’s slack, sleepy mouth, before the cryptid bundled him into bed and snuggled up to him with those deep, rumbling purrs that Stern now loves.

The bracelet is gone from the nightstand (Yeti didn’t eat it, thank god), so the chef must be making breakfast in his human form. Now would be a good time to go down and talk.

“Mew” A weight lands on his chest as Yeti kneads the blankets, purring when he reaches you and rubs her head.

“You know, little monster, this almost makes the heart attack you gave me worth it.”

“Mew?” The cat stares hopefully out the windows.

“Not a chance. I can’t take that stress again. Besides” he scoops her up, “we need to unbox that new toy I ordered. Barclay and I need some time to ourselves today.”

#agent stern/barclay #sternclay #winter fills #taz amnesty

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tagsecretsanta · 3 years

Text

From @hodgehegposts

to @eirabach

Secret Santa does not own this work, full credit to the author above!

It had all started one, late, night, when Alan was back on duty on the Island and Brandon was busy halfway around the world trying to piece together enough footage to keep his vlog going over the next few weeks so that he could visit Alan without having to worry about not producing content. Their relationship seemed to be walking the tightrope that their two competing schedules spun, relying on snatched moments of contact over vid-calls and flying visits, but for the moment it was working for them. Brandon knew, deep in his heart, that the moment that it seemed to be getting too much, that it wasn’t enough any more to sustain themselves with these brief glimpses, that he would leave to go to the Island and be with Alan full time, if Alan would let him, knowing that Alan could never give up International Rescue even if he tried, but they hadn’t reached that stage yet. For now, they were coping, for now it was okay, even if it was at times tiring.

“Do you ever think,” Alan had said that one late night, huddled up in bed and cradling his comms device close to him. “Do you ever think that like, this isn’t the only universe?”

“What do you mean?” Brandon had asked, hair tousled from sleep, a mug of coffee on his bedside table growing cold.

“Like, do you think that maybe somewhere else, there’s an Alan and a Brandon who are able to spend all their time together? Like, an Alan and a Brandon where there isn’t an International Rescue, or whatever?”

“Maybe, I don’t know.”

“I think there is. I think there are infinite universes, each with something different in them, with infinite Alans and Brandons, all with their different lives.”

Brandon had just smiled, because only Alan would ever think to say something like that.

Meanwhile, in another universe...

It was cold, snow piled high along the edges of the sidewalk and the sky had been heavy with the threat of more for the past week. It was one of those long, dark winters that made people want to hibernate, to stay inside with blankets and hot chocolate and fluffy socks. People didn’t, of course, because life didn’t stop just because it was a harsh winter, but that didn’t meant that there weren’t appreciative smiles when people stepped inside and into warmth, shedding coats, hats, scarves and gloves like they were a second skin, stamping on the doormat to shake off the snow from boots and blowing on frozen fingertips.

That hustle and bustle wasn’t present this morning, though. The city was sleepy and still, the late rising sun staining the sky with a fiery orange, a spot of bright vibrancy in the otherwise stark weather. It didn’t matter, though, how beautiful the orange was, because those who were up to see it were already focused on other things, on family and sugar and laughter. In a tiny, cramped apartment with dodgy radiators and plants spilling across the countertops, buttery yellow curtains at the window and a blue sofa that seemed too big for the space it had been squeezed into, a young couple were smiling, the radio playing softly in the background whilst one of them tried to cook and the other instructed from the kitchen table, a plaster clad leg propped up on a stool and pile of cushions.

“Are you sure that’s right? It looks like a mess,” Alan said, frowning at the bowl in front of him. Brandon rolled his eyes, shifting a little in his seat.

“Yes.”

“But it doesn’t look like cookie dough.”

“That’s because you haven’t added the flour yet.”

“It looks like shit.”

“Alan,” said Brandon, aiming for stern but missing when he wasn’t able to completely hide his grin. “It’s supposed to look like that. That’s what happens when you add the wet ingredients and dry ingredients together separately.”

“Are you sure though? You’ve seen my grandma’s cooking, the stories of food poisoning were not exaggerated, and I really really don’t want to find out that I managed to inherit those genes on Christmas Day. We’ve spent enough time in the emergency room for this month.”

The tone was light and teasing, but Brandon could see the worry that still flashed through Alan’s eyes at the memory of the snowboarding accident, the way his hand tightened ever so slightly around the mixing spoon, and Brnadon wished he could stand and cross the small kitchen, wished he could kiss away all of his eyes boyfriend’s stress and bad memories. Instead, he went for a wry half smile, flicking a stray chocolate chip from the small pile given to him by Alan when he had pouted over not being able to steal any.

“Hey,” Brandon said, trying to lift the atmosphere that was starting to settle. “I’m okay. And I know how to make cookies, and I trust you. Don’t stress, okay?”

“...Okay,” Alan agreed, giving Brandon a small, tentative smile. Brandon huffed.

“Alan, it’s fine.” He reached across the table, only just managing to brush the very end of his fingertips across Alan’s soft hoodie, but Alan got the message, moving around the table and bending down so Brandon could give him a small, reassuring kiss. “Just chill, yeah? It’s Christmas. And you promised me cookies for breakfast and I plan on holding you to that, so better get baking.”

“So demanding,” Alan teased, still leaning over Brandon.

“You love it.”

“I do.” He gave Brandon one last, sweet, kiss before straightening back up and returning to the kitchen counter. “Right then. Flour.”

“Yep. All purpose, one cup.” Brandon sat back, crunching on another chocolate chip and trying (and failing) not to laugh when Alan dumped a cup of flour into the mixture with a heavy hand and caused a white cloud to puff up into his face.

***

Later, when the sun had finally risen properly and the air outside was light, bright and clear, despite the freezing temperatures such weather brought with it, Alan and Brandon were tucked side by side on the blue sofa, sharing one of the many blankets Gordon had gifted Alan with when Alan had first moved to Colorado. Alan had protested at the time, but Gordon had pointed out that LA was different to Denver, and Alan would thank him later. Alan had rolled his eyes petulantly and hadn’t, in fact, thanked him, but he could at least appreciate the usefulness of them, even if they were a particularly ugly shade of yellow that didn’t match their curtains and only Gordon and Brandon seemed to like.

It may be ugly (in Alan’s opinion, not that he was famed for his interior design skills), but it’s soft and warm and, most importantly, big enough to cover the two of them, Alan tucked into Brandon’s side whilst Brandon sat diagonally in the corner seat, broken leg stretched out and propped up on a stack of Alan’s old textbooks, softened by one of the cushions taken from the sofa. There was an untouched plate of cookies on Brandon’s lap and a cheesy Christmas film that was playing on the television in the background, going mostly ignored. It was soft and sweet and domestic in the living room that was barely bigger than the kitchen, if two separate rooms could even be made distinct given that it was a large bookshelf that marked a divide, full of books, trinkets and photographs, rather than an actual wall.

“...are you going to try one?” Alan asked eventually, breaking the comfortable quiet. Brandon’s eyebrow raised, but he lifted a cookie to his mouth, taking a large bite and not breaking his gaze on Alan. Alan could feel himself blush, waiting with baited breath as Brandon chewed swallowed, eventually ducking his head into Brandon’s shoulder. Alan could still feel his eyes burning into him as the silence stretched. “Well? And stop looking at me like that, you’re making me nervous.”

“Well…”

“Oh God. I've poisoned you, haven't I? They’re awful. We should’ve just stuck to cereal, and now I’ll have to write your eulogy where I explain to everyone that it was my lack of baking skills that killed you-”

“Alan. Shut up. They’re good.”

“...what?”

“They’re good.” He shifted, dislodging Alan enough so that he could kiss him softly, the taste of chocolate chips and sugar on his lips. “Thank you, baby.”

“Merry Christmas, Brandon,” Alan mumbled into the kiss, not willing to pull away. He could feel Brandon’s lips pull up into a smile against his own.

“Merry Christmas. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Meanwhile, in another universe…

Brandon had always, always, associated Christmas with snow. As a child, his family had always jetted off to spend Christmas abroad in some picturesque, aesthetically pleasing place with the backdrop of snow and pine needles, choosing to spend the Christmas holiday in a bed not their own and paint the picture of a happy, perfect family that had made Brandon want to scream when he was old enough to understand the hypocrisy of it all. It hadn't been any better as Brandon got older and he was shipped off to work for his godfather in a bid to curb some of his wild tendencies. It hadn’t really worked, of course, because Lemaire was just as wild as Brandon in his projects, albeit with the benefit of dressing it up as a need to explore, rather than to satisfy his own endless curiosity and need for adrenaline, but at least now Brandon had a better understanding of the importance of a carefully curated public persona, why aesthetic shots of dreamy wooden chalets to paint a false image was important.

Still. Just because he could now appreciate his family’s motivations, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to jump at the chance to spend Christmas with Alan, when the idea was first proposed, complete with shy blushes and a hopeful, tentative smile. Brandon had simply kissed Alan, hard, and given his now breathless boyfriend the biggest smile possible that told him just how excellent an idea that was.

Brandon was supposed to have arrived on the twenty-second of December, enough time to acclimatise to the Island and meet everyone before the main festivities began, but this got pushed back to the twenty-third and then again to the twenty-fourth, when a bright pink car pulled up outside his apartment and a person who was decidedly not Alan stepped out, a small pug in a seasonal red jumper held securely under one arm whilst the other was outstretched for Brandon to shake the perfectly manicured hand.

“Brandon? Alan is terribly sorry, he was desperately keen to come and get you himself but unfortunately rescues have held all of them up and you’ve just been stuck with me. I do hope you don’t mind. I’m Penelope Creighton-Ward.”

“It’s fine,” Brandon assured, finally able to place a face to Gordon’s girlfriend that Alan had mentioned once or twice before. He ducked quickly into his hallway to pick up his bags and followed Penelope to the car.

The flight to the Island was pleasant enough, Penelope making polite conversation as they crossed the ocean, but Brandon was feeling increasingly impatient, a feeling that didn’t dissipate until they had landed and he was finally, finally, back in Alan’s arms. Luckily, only Gordon and Alan were around and it was easy to sneak back to Alan’s bedroom to exchange kisses and private smiles, drinking in each other’s presence now that they were together again.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come and get you,” Alan said eventually, cuddled up into Brandon’s side and struggling to keep his eyes open. “Stupid space pirate ghosts.”

The hand that Brandon was using to card through Alan’s hair stilled, and he looked down at him in confusion, Alan’s soft hair tickling his nose. “The… what?”

“Space pirate ghosts,” Alan repeated, mumbling through a yawn. “Met them before but they’re so annoying.”

“If you say so.”

“They are, you’re lucky you haven’t met them. They just cause so many problems and steal my astro-boards all the time. So annoying.”

“Space pirate ghosts?”

“Yes. Or space ghost pirates if you prefer.”

“I think you need to sleep, baby.”

“Mmm,” Alan agreed. It wasn’t a tacit agreement, but Alan’s breaths started to even out and Brandon had resumed the gentle strokes through his hair. It wasn’t long before the two of them were sound asleep, tangled and pressed close together as the sun began to rise on Christmas Day.

Meanwhile, in another universe…

Everything was beautiful. It was beautiful and perfect and tasteful, from the canapés and trays of drinks being carried unobtrusively around the edges of the room to the elegant decoration of holly and pine, a great Christmas tree standing at the opposite end to the hall where the band was playing, soft white lights twinkling from where they had been wrapped around the branches and catching on the red and gold glass baubles and causing them to shine in bright spots of colour that culminated in a great, golden sunburst of a star at the top of the tree. The music was loud enough to cover people’s conversations and provide a semblance of privacy, but not too loud that the guests had to shout at each other, playing a wide range of popular carols and songs that had prompted enough people to take to the dance floor that it was now quite full.

None of that mattered to Brandon, however. Nothing mattered at all, hadn’t mattered the moment the Tracy family had stepped through the great doors in full force, all decked out in their smart suits and commanding attention without even trying. Lady Penelope had glided forward in full hostess mood, greeting Jeff Tracy first with a kiss to each cheek and a musical laugh to whatever comment he made to her, before turning to each of the brothers and welcoming them each with a kiss of their own, leaving Gordon until last and breaking the pattern with a swift kiss to the lips. Brandon watched as Gordon had beamed, his entire person brightening up even more, brighter than the sun, and Brandon had to squash the pang of longing and jealousy forcefully. It wasn’t fair to indulge in those feelings. He and Alan had talked about it, had agreed to keep things just between them for now whilst things were so new and Alan still hadn’t, actually, come out to his family, and it was fine. Brandon loved Alan more than anything and wouldn’t ask anything from Alan that would make him uncomfortable, wouldn’t even think to ask.

Still, watching as Gordon pressed a kiss to Penelope’s hand and guided her onto the dance floor to spin her around in time to the music, Brandon couldn’t help the small part of him that wished that one day, he’d be able to scoop Alan up and sway with him on the dance floor as well.

***

It didn’t take long for Alan to find him, or for him to find Alan, or for the two of them to gravitate together because really, they were like magnets in the way they managed to always seek each other out at gatherings like these. One of the advantages of being related to rich, powerful families was that they were often at gatherings for rich, powerful people and it was perfectly natural that a friendship would have sprung up between the two of them, providing a perfect cover story for their meet-ups. Even still, when they did inevitably find each other that evening, it was in a secluded doorway that seemed to be mostly hidden from the rest of the room, a door almost hidden by a heavy velvet curtain that Brandon was currently standing behind as he pressed Alan into the door frame, their lips sliding urgently over each other as hands gripped at suit jackets.

“Wait,” Alan gasped breathlessly, pulling back to gaze heavy lidded at Brandon. His lips were pink and puffy, and Brandon couldn’t help but lean forward to kiss them once, twice, three times more. Alan’s hands moved from where he was pulling Brandon’s hips closer to cup his cheeks instead, stopping Brandon from being able to distract him further. “I have something to tell you.”

“Can it wait?” asked Brandon, his question more of a plea.

“It’s important.”

“Alan…”

“I came out to my dad.”

That pulled Brandon up short, stopped him from trying to drop kisses down Alan’s neck, choosing to look Alan in the eye instead as he tried to gauge Alan’s feelings towards coming out to his dad.

“You did?”

“Yeah. I um… I told him that I had a boyfriend. I didn’t say it was you, because I know we agreed to go slow for now and not tell a whole bunch of people and I wanted to talk to you first before Dad knows, but yeah. He was okay about it and now he knows. He knows I like guys. Or I guess a guy. A specific guy. You-“

Brandon cut Alan’s nervous rambling off with a searing kiss, trying to pour as much love and support as possible into it until his brain managed to come up with adequate words to say. The moan Alan rewarded him with indicated Brandon’s success.

“I love you, so much. I’m so proud of you,” Brandon said when they finally pulled apart, thumb brushing the nape of Alan’s neck and arms resting on his shoulders. Alan’s face split into the widest grin.

“I love you too.”

“Are you staying the night?” Brandon asked, already tipping forward for another kiss, pushing Alan further back into the wall.

“Yes, why?”

“Because you’re amazing, hot as hell and we’ve been kissing for a while now and I don’t think it’d be a good idea to go back out with all those fancy people including our families.”

“...fuck.”

“My point exactly.”

“Follow me, I know a shortcut.”

Alan took one of Brandon’s hands, lacing their fingers together, and fumbled for the door behind them. Just as he was tugging Brandon through it, Brandon reached up and snagged the branch of mistletoe that was hanging unobtrusively above it, winking at Alan’s questioning look.

“For later,” he promised, and tried not to laugh as Alan started pulling him through the manor at a quicker pace.

Meanwhile, in this universe…

Brandon stifled a smile when he saw Alan yawn for the fifth time, easily making the calculations that were by now second nature when trying to determine the time zones and working out that it had now gone midnight for Alan and that Alan really needed to sleep. The conversation had drifted and meandered along, as it was prone to do when the two of them were talking, but Brandon couldn’t stop thinking about what Alan had said earlier, about the different universes with the different Alans and Brandons.

“Hey, Alan,” he said, and Alan blinked at him sleepily, already curled on his side with one arm tucked under his pillow.

“Hmm?”

“I think you’re right. About the different universes.”

“Of course. I’m super smart,” he bragged, and Brandon rolled his eyes, the move tempered by his huffed laugh.

“I know baby. But I think, even with all those different universes, there isn’t a single one where we don’t find each other.”

“No?”

“No. I think in every one we’re together, and that we’re happy.”

“I’m happy in this one. With you.”

“I know. And I’ll be with you tomorrow. Well. My tomorrow.”

“I know. I love you, Brandon.

“I love you too. I’ll see you at Christmas.”

“See you at Christmas.”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #tag team secret santa #secret santa 2020 #Brandon Berringer #alan tracy #hodgehegposts

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eternalpassions · 3 years

Text

Coffee Encounters Part 1

Summary: There are certain things you do to get away from the day to day stresses of being an adult. Those are running and going to a coffee shop. In these places you meet a handsome stranger who catches your eye. He’s mysterious, handsome, tall and younger than you?! What do when you find yourself drawn to someone you shouldn’t want?!

Warning: suggestive

He was always there. As you ran lap after lap you spotted him there in the mornings.

Running was the one real choice you made. Waking up early for work, going to work, spending those long grueling days at the office were decisions you made, you acknowledged that much. But how much could you say they were real choices?

They were as real as they could be in a society that socializes you at a young age that this is the only choice that makes life worth living, that makes life possible to live.

Running was the one thing of your choosing,it was the one choice you made for yourself. Running gave you an escape from the mundane. Running cleared your mind and made your body strong. Running helped you see things.

The track provided you with a distraction and escape from the mundane nature of your life. You came to the track every morning, even on the weekends such as this one. As you ran, and pushed your muscles and core to the point of soreness, you always spotted him there. For some reason he caught your eye.

Watching him made you feel like a creep.,like some kind of pervert. You’d notice whenever he got to the track. You’d glance at your side whenever he strode pat you. With his long legs, it only took him a few strides to be a long ways ahead of you.From the times that he passed by you, you could tell he would tower over your small frame.

Perhaps it wasn’t so creepy that you’d eye the boy when he wasn’t looking.As far as you knew, he wasn’t aware and you’d never let him know.

As you watched him you wondered what was his story. What made him wake up early in the mornings to come to this track? He seemed so carefree, you wondered if he really was.

He seemed young.He was probably in a different place than you. You were 24 years old and a newly working adult with grown up responsibilities. Your work out attire was able to hide who you truly were. A person who lived by the hour. A person whose only purpose was to survive. A shell of a person who struggled to meet demands placed on her by the world.A person who was barely keeping it together.

You quicken your strides ignoring your lungs and legs begging for you to stop.

The last thing you saw before you were sucked into blackness was grass. Was the grass really greener on the other side?

Suddenly, you're back at your college campus, back at the place where things seemed to be much easier. You were standing in the middle of the quad and you could see your friend Jungwoo standing in front of you.

How did you get here? You didn't remember getting to the campus. You didn't have a reason to be at the campus, you graduated a year ago.

“ Running is for uncreative masturbators,” Jungwoo says. He stands in front of you, with his usual posture of a slight slouch with hands in his pockets.

“What?” you furrow your brow confused. He was usually weird, always spouting off random theories and ideas of his.

“You heard me, it's probably proven”

Suddenly the scenery changes and you are both sitting at the STEM library where you both spent what felt like endless hours studying. He sits across the table and he has his arms crossed, looking how he usually did before involving you in his philosophical debates.

“ So you think you have no control. Well it’s true life’s a code. If you look closely you can see the numbers.”

You don’t know why,but you do as he says, curious if what he’s saying is true. As you look around you see numbers in front of you. You could hear numbers crunching.

“Oh and Y/N” he says. You look at him, dazed from what you’ve been seeing. A world filled with codes and numbers crunching. A world with a code that dictates what people should do in life, how the game is played.

“Yea? “ You ask, still dazed. What was going on?

He leans towards you and says “Wake the fuck up”

You squint your eyes, not understanding. What did he mean?

The world fills with colors as you open your eyes. You are breathing heavily and your mouth is dry. You see the boy from the track sitting in front of you looking at you with his brows scrunched.

“Oh man are you okay?” He asks

Your head is pounding and your mouth is dry. You look around trying to adjust to your surroundings. So you really were at the track and the weird trippeness that happened with Jungwoo was just a dream. His weird ramblings from Friday night were somehow seeping into your subconscious.

“What happened” you ask, you voice groggily.

“You were running and then you collapsed right in front of me” he says as he reaches over to grab a water bottle. He opens it and hands it to you.

You thank him as you take the water bottle. This was beyond embarrassing. Here you were, an adult and you couldn't even keep it together in front of strangers. You were a sorry excuse for an adult that you needed a stranger looking after you.

Not just any stranger, but a handsome familiar stranger. A stranger that caught your eye whenever you ran. He probably thought you were some kind of idiot.

“ How long was I out?” You ask after you drink large gulps of water. The water feels heavenly against your dry throat.

“A few minutes” He replies. You look at him. He was sitting closely in front of you and from this angle you could really see him closely. Before you could only take quick glances at him as he passed by you but now you could get a clearer look at him. He had full eyebrows, plump pink lips and light medium length hair. From the stolen glances at him from before you could guess he was handsome but now as he sat in front of you you know he is handsome.

As you drink more water you realize something.You were running past the limits of your body and mind without even bringing any water with you. Perhaps you had gotten yourself dehydrated which explained the fainting.

You wonder how it is you are drinking water if you didn’t bring any water with you. Then you realize that it’s his water you are drinking.That means his lips and saliva touched this water. And your lips and saliva had entered this water as well. It shouldn't fluster you because you were a grown woman, but it did. You found yourself reacting like a flustered school girl.

You sputtered the water in your mouth.

“Are you okay? Should I call an ambulance?” he asks as he reaches over to rub your back. His hands rubbing circles gently against your back .You feel taken care of but at the same time your skin feels hot to the touch. You can’t stop yourself from choking on the water.

“No” You finally manage.

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as you try to regain your composure.The silence passes on which lets you hear the music blaring through your earbuds. You tended to listen to music at loud volumes whenever you ran,

A song called the 7th sense by a group called NCT plays. They are a niche group you had recently found out about. They stuck out to you because they were not limited by any sound or concept.. Every song they did, every lyric, every genre, even the fashion was all made out of their own choice.In this way they seemed free, A kind of free you wished you could be.

The hip hop and dreamy vibes of the song continued to blast through your earbuds.

“Is that NCT?” he asked

“Oh you know of them?” you asked. You are so intrigued that he knew of the band that you don’t feel flustered that he can hear your music through your earbuds.Did you just meet someone who you not only found yourself attracted to but who shared an interest with you?Not many knew of NCT. They were a truly underrated band with fresh talent offered. However ,that raw potential wasn't discovered by the general audience yet..

“Yea I do! I love their limitless concept” He says as he smiles.His smile is warm and inviting.It makes your heart flutter and it makes you feel light.

“Me too! They’re so underrated!” You beam. You feel as if you could talk about this for hours. You bored your best friend jungwoo with this topic. He always complained about how you talked endlessly about the topic. Now have you found someone who wasn’t annoyed by your interests?

“Yea me too!

“I’m Sungchan by the way” He introduces himself as he stands up. He stretches his hand out to you to help you up. Your heart throbs as you accept his hand. His hand engulfed your small one. He is able to effortlessly help you up.

“I come by this track every morning before practice,” He continues. “I just started university nearby so I might see you around” Now that both of you are standing you can clearly see the difference in your heights. He stands tall at at least 6 feet. And you… hardly make it to 5 sad feet. But for once your limitation on height doesn’t bother you, you find yourself glad that he towers over you. For some reason the way he towers over you has you wanting to throw yourself at him. You feel as if he would be able to save you, his size able to guard you and hold you safe and sound.

You usually kept to yourself for the most part, only keeping a few friends and your family close but for the most part not depending on anyone. It was done out of pride and to keep some ounce of control in your life. Usually you didn't want to appear weak or vulnerable in front of anyone so you made so your trusted few. But standing with him and talking with him made you aware of your smallness but you weren't ashamed for once, In fact, you were glad that you were this small in front of him.

You watch him as he bends down to get his stuff. He looks back at you and waves.

“Take care alight?” he smiles and you think it's the warmest smile you’ve ever seen on anyone before. For some reason it comforted you, it made you feel like the day was gonna be okay, like things were going to be okay.

“ Thank you for helping me out, I don't know what would've happened if you weren't there” You say as you knit your hands together

“It's not a problem don't worry about it” He gives one final wave before he begins walking off. As you watch him walk away, something plucks inside of you. A feeling of longing, curiosity and desire. You wanted to know him.

It wasn’t right though. You had just found out he was not just a university student but a freshly new university student. Which made him younger than you. His position placed him at a different stage in life than you. You had no place in taking interest in what was probably barely a legal aged boy. You’d watch him disappear. The sun would set, new days would arrive, and he’d remain a familiar stranger.

You would act with resolve and do what you always did: the right thing.You closed your eyes as you turned your back and walked the opposite way of the familiar stranger.

#nct #sungchan #taeyong #jungwoo #nct writers #nct network

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