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moldisgoodforyou · 3 years

Text

reunion (i)

warnings: smut !!!

wordcount: 3.2k lmfao why is it always longer when it’s sexual

_____

When he finally came to visit - the longest three months of her life, Sophie thought - she saw him from a distance and picked up her pace, heart pounding in her chest, feeling a weird mix of nerves and anticipation. He was clearly lost and glancing around at all the Spanish signs with a confused look, trying to decipher where he should go, until he collided chest-to-face with something - no, someone.

“Shit, sorry - er -” He racked his brain for the Spanish word she had taught him but came up short once he realized it was Sophie herself, purposely bumping into him. “Sophie!”

She slipped her arms around his waist without hesitation, laughing. “Hi! You’re here!”

And god, if that laughter wasn’t the prettiest thing he’d ever heard. Rafe wrapped both arms securely around her, pressing her to his chest, and inhaled. She had changed some, hair highlighted from the sun and tanned skin all around with some new freckles dusted across her nose, but she still smelled like the lemon and lavender perfume he always loved and her smile was exactly the same, making him feel warm inside almost instantly.

"God, I missed you so fucking much." He mumbled against her hair.

“Missed you too.” She lifted her head and kissed him, for much shorter than he liked, and he nearly whined when she pulled away.

"That's all I get after three whole months?" He teased and she grinned, slipping her hand in his back pocket to retrieve his phone and playfully squeezed his butt as she did.

"You can get more when we're not in the airport, you look like a prime pickpocket target right now." She flicked the collar of his polo - a pale blue, her favorite color on him - with a teasing smile. "C'mon, we have to catch the train. Was your flight okay?"

“Yeah, easy.” His hand found his way to hers like a magnet, not wanting to let her go for a second. “You look incredible.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself. Summer looks good on you.” She grinned, squeezing his hand as they wove their way through the busy airport. Nothing compared to the feeling of being back with his girl.

Rafe refused to let her take his backpack or suitcase, shouldering everything himself. He had left his suitcase half empty, expecting to take home some of her clothes and souvenirs after she had nervously told him she wasn’t sure if she could afford to check another bag. When she showed him some of her favorite things she was going to have to leave behind, over FaceTime with a pout - a unique silk dress and that damned leather jacket - it was easy for him to sacrifice his own space.

Once they got on the train to get to the city’s center, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in to press a kiss to her temple. “I’m never letting you leave me for that long again.”

She furrowed her brow, peering up at him. “What if I wanted to travel?”

“Then I’ll go too, if I can.” He declared with a grin. “I don’t think I’m a fan of not having you around.”

She blushed, ducking her head down with a shy smile. “I can’t believe you’re actually here and not just on my phone screen.”

He nudged her chin up with one knuckle, giving her a short kiss. “All real. What are our plans today?”

Sophie brightened, eager to tell him. “We’re meeting my friends for brunch later, but we have time to drop by my apartment and you can shower, if you want. That okay?”

“Yeah. You’re not gonna let me nap, I assume?” He hid a yawn behind his fist.

She checked her hip against his with a grin. “No sir. We’re doing brunch, then the beach, then I thought we could go to the market and get things for dinner, I’ll cook. Deal?”

He beamed, ruffling her hair affectionately. “Deal. I wanna hear your Spanish skills too, I’ve only heard it when you’re drunk so far.”

She laughed, tucking her head closer into his chest. “That can be arranged.”

_____

After navigating the metro successfully, they made it to Sophie’s apartment that she shared with her three roommates. Rafe scowled when she presented him with his three-day metro card, already paid for. “How much was this?”

“No te importa.” She told him with a grin.

“English, please?” He was already swiping for the Venmo app on his phone but she plucked it out of his hand, shaking her head. “None of your business. I don’t want a reimbursement.”

“C’mon, I’ve missed out on three whole months of not paying for you. I gotta catch up.” He protested, taking his phone back.

“No. Too bad.” She unlocked the door to her apartment and swung it wide open, smiling. “Welcome to mi casa.”

He’d already seen the majority of it on FaceTime, but it was nice to be re-oriented. “I love it, Soph. Very cool, it’s very you.”

“Thank you, thank you.” Sophie then showed him into her room - and immediately cringed at the state of disarray. She’d been attempting to pack before he came and there was a pile of dirty clothes in one corner, her shoes scattered around and some photos and posters piled up to take home. “Shoot, um, sorry. Let me just get this real quick.” She excused herself, flitting around the room to pick things up as he watched, amused, and took a seat on the unmade bed.

“Didn’t think you were the type to have a messy room.”

“Yes, well, I’m much cleaner with roommates around, and you've never seen my room at home.” She replied, satisfied as she tossed her laundry into the hamper. “Oh, can’t forget that -” She walked past him to try and grab a spare water glass on her nightstand, but he grabbed her around the waist, stopping her in her tracks. “Sophie.”

“Yeah?” She had to remind herself to breathe, not used to him being so damn close - and seriously, how the hell did he smell so good after that long of a flight?

“It’s been an hour.” He trailed one hand down to rest along the small of her back, tracing one finger down her spine along the way.

“An hour...?” She bit her lip, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

“It’s been a whole hour since we’ve been back together and you haven’t properly kissed me yet.” He declared, a wide grin spreading across his face, and her cheeks tinged pink. “Is that so?”

Rafe laughed at her embarrassment, resting one large hand on the side of her face to cup her cheek and pull her in. “C’mere, angel.”

She felt her stomach flutter as she kissed him, shortly, then pulled away with a smirk. “Will that do?”

“Absolutely not.” He leaned back onto the bed, pulling her on top of him abruptly and laughed when she let out a surprised squeal. When he rolled them over, kissing her hard, she promptly hooked an ankle around his legs to draw him closer. “Fuck, I missed you.” She mumbled against his lips, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

“I love you so damn much.” He murmured breathlessly, pulling away only for a second to yank his shirt over his head and toss it aside. Hers followed shortly after, along with her bra. When he started working at the drawstring of her shorts, she grabbed his hand abruptly. “Wait, no - I said we’d meet my roommates at brunch -”

“Fuck brunch.” Rafe stated, placing hot, rushed kisses along her throat.

Sophie moaned, scratching lightly along his back. “Rafe.”

“We can be late.” He bartered, reaching down and rubbing two fingers across her through her shorts. She bit her lip hard, trying her best to think of an argument. “I...I told them...”

“I’ll be quick.” He promised, pushing her up the bed and grinned up at her from between her legs. “Judging by the look of you, you will too.”

She huffed, indignant, but it quickly turned into another moan as he nipped along her inner thigh. “Rafe Cameron.”

“Sophie Flint.” He tugged her shorts down along with her underwear in one fell swoop, then licked a wide strip up her entrance. She yelped in surprise, fisting her fingers in his hair. “Jesus Christ.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay, you can just call me Rafe. Cameron works too. Too fast?” He lifted his head, both hands gripping her thighs, but she practically pushed him back down, scowling. “Shut the fuck up - no, no, more. Just not used to it.” She pleaded, moaning again when he got to work.

“Be good.” He flicked her inner thigh when she nearly clamped her legs around his head. “Fucking - sorry -” She barely got out before she was whimpering, trying her best to keep quiet. If her neighbors heard her, both apartments with students in her program, she’d never hear the end of it.

“Wanna hear you.” He mumbled against her, sliding a finger into her entrance and groaning when she clenched around him. “So fucking tight.”

She whined, tugging at his hair. “Need you. Please.”

“M’ right here. Not letting you go again.” He soothed, teasing with small kisses everywhere but where she wanted it as his fingers worked at her core.

“Rafe, please.” She practically begged, trying her best to pull him back up the bed while her brain was going into overdrive.

“Patience, angel.” He admonished, slowing his pace.

“We’re going to be late.” She argued, pressing her hips up into him. “Need you, now.”

“Use your words, angel.” He grinned, loving the way she twisted and whined under him.

“Don’t make me say it - oh, fuck, right there -”

He withdrew his fingers immediately before she could come, smirking as she cried out in frustration. Rafe then sucked them both into his mouth, down to the knuckle, and she just watched with wide eyes, until she came back to her senses.

Sophie pulled him up the bed and flipped him over so he was flat on his back, her knees on either side of his hips. She worked at his shorts quickly and unbuttoned them, shoving them down his legs just enough so she could pull out his cock. He hissed at the contact, jerking into her hand, and she grinned at him. “Eager, aren’t we?”

“Soph - I’m gonna cum in like, two seconds if you keep moving like that.” He bit out, watching as she slid her thumb gently back and forth over the head of his cock.

When she nodded and knelt down, tongue darting out to wet her lips, Rafe shook his head quickly and nudged her back up. “Not gonna last.”

“Oh. Oh.” She grinned, proud she was still able to work him up so easily. “Fuck, I don’t have any -”

“In my backpack.” He hurriedly interrupted her. “At the bottom, there’s a strip of them.”

“Prepared.” She commented with a smirk, then crawled off him to grab a condom, running her hands down his thighs as she went. He sat up on his elbows to watch her bend over, grinning sheepishly as she caught him when she turned back around, gold foil in hand. “Quit staring.”

“I can’t. I haven’t seen you in this high definition in ages.” He joked, hands automatically going to her hips as she crawled back on him. She took care of rolling on the condom, making him let out a strained groan, before rocking her hips against his. “Alright?”

“Yes, let me - oh, fuck -” He breathed out as she sank down on him, his grip tightening on her hips. She winced, lifting up a little with her hands braced on his abdomen. “Okay, angel?” He asked with concern, reaching up to tug the end of her hair a little.

“Yeah, just, one second.” She sat down on him, slower, and her eyes fluttered shut as the feeling went from a pinch of pain to pleasure.

“There you go. Good girl.” He murmured as she started rolling her hips against his, slowly picking up the pace.

“Fucking hell.” She mumbled - she’d never quite expressed how much good girl turned her on, but he had seemed to pick up on it over time. He kept a firm grip on her hips or just under her ass, nearly bruising the skin as he helped her ride him, but she didn’t mind one bit. “So full, fuck.”

“Yeah? Doing so good for me, Soph. So good at riding me.” He praised, one hand going up to toy with her nipple while the other went south to her clit, making her gasp when he rubbed steady circles across it.

“Baby, I’m - I can’t -” she started, her pace becoming a little more frenzied.

He was struggling to hold it too, nodding. “I know. Come for me, angel, show me how good you can be.”

His words were enough to push her over the edge and she whined, letting her head drop back as she came, digging her nails a little into his chest. As she clenched around him it triggered his own release, and he groaned, breathing heavy. “Fuck, Soph.”

They both lay there in silence for a few moments, her head nuzzled into his neck and their pants filling the air. When she moved a little, attempting to get off him, he grabbed her hips suddenly, hissing - and she paused, a little incredulous. “Are - are you seriously still hard?”

He gave her a slow, cocky grin. “Maybe.”

“Oh my god.” She giggled, pressing a kiss to the column of his throat and her phone chimed, making her wince. “God damnit. What time is it?”

Rafe was willing himself to make the erection go away - a difficult task when he was literally still halfway inside her, and she kept shifting on top of him. “No idea. Do I need to take care of this...or...?”

“Um.” She carefully crawled off him and reached for her phone on the nightstand. Sophie bit back a grin and glanced at her phone, shaking her head. “Okay. If we leave in eight minutes, we can make it to the metro stop and get to brunch only fifteen minutes late - Rafe!”

He had gotten up and scooped her off the bed in a bridal carry, then kicked open the door and paused. “Where’s the shower?”

She squirmed, fighting his grip until he put her down, then pushed open a door. “Here. But we can’t go together, it’s tiny. I’ll go first, but I’ll be quick -”

“You’re never quick.” He nudged her from behind, pushing her into the bathroom and followed her in, locking the door. She flicked on the shower then turned around, eyeing him over as she waited for it to get warm, arms crossed over her chest.

“You’re staring.” He accused, smirking.

“I can’t believe you’re still hard.” She mumbled, taking a mental picture.

“Well, I - can you blame me!” He blushed as he gestured at her body, hand going to wrap around his cock. “I’ll get rid of it, just let me -”

Sophie watched with her mouth slightly parted for a moment, acutely aware of the tiny bathroom beginning to fog up and the sight in front of her, unsure if she was lightheaded because she hadn’t eaten yet or - well - because of him. “Let me.”

He looked up at her with darkened eyes and a teasing smile, still slowly stroking himself. “Think you can handle it?”

She sunk to her knees in front of him, sliding her hands up his thighs. “Shut up or I’ll bite,” she threatened.

He laughed, but it turned into a choked groan when she took him completely in her mouth, not wasting any time. “Soph - fuck, I’m seriously not going to -”

She bobbed up and down on him, steadily increasing her pace as her hand worked at the base of his cock, the other hand digging her nails into the back of his thigh. “S’okay.”

“I can - d’you want to -” he struggled to think of a complete sentence, wrapping his hand in her hair and tucking it aside.

“Hm?” She pulled off him to ask, looking up at him through her lashes.

“Don’t wanna - your mouth -” Rafe panted out, leaning back against the bathroom counter for some stability, weak-kneed.

“Oh.” She put her mouth all the way down on him, holding him for a second before pulling away with a shy grin. “Um...you can cum on me. If you want.”

“Fucking - you’re serious?” His eyes went as wide as saucers and she could tell he was seconds away from the edge as she nodded, trying not to look too eager to please. “Gonna shower anyway.”

“Angel. Fucking angel.” He muttered, only pumping himself a few times before coming on her chest, groaning probably a little too loud. She grinned at the way he went slack and reached to pull her up and bring her close immediately, always cuddly post-orgasm.

Sophie dipped her finger in the mess across her skin and licked it with a smirk, holding back a laugh as his jaw nearly dropped open. “Mm. Breakfast.”

“Oh my god.” He leaned down and kissed her, hard. “Careful, or I’ll have an issue again.”

She laughed and shoved him away, pulling back the shower curtain. “We’re so fucked. So late.”

“I am.” He agreed, trying to step in behind her and wedge himself into the tight space. When she poured soap into her hands and began to wash her chest, he shook his head quickly and stepped back, snapping the shower curtain shut. “I’m gonna wait.”

“Rafe, we can just hurry - I’ll wash your hair -” She protested, reaching her soapy hand out for him.

“No, you’re the problem here.” He laughed, a little strained. “Do your thing and I’ll hop in after, you’ll have to get clothes and whatever anyways. Pull something out of my suitcase for me to wear?”

“You can’t get your mind off sex for three minutes to shower?” She teased.

“I’ve literally been waiting three months for this again. No I cannot.” He smirked, leaning back against the bathroom wall with his arms crossed as he waited.

“I’ve done just fine.” She told him, as if to prove a point. He scoffed. “I think you’re forgetting about when drunk you left me a voicemail about how you missed me so bad, then a separate one - and I repeat - for my dick, because you missed it too.”

“Shut up.” She finished her shower and stepped out, dripping wet, and Rafe had to shut his eyes while he got in, making a show out of looking away. “Tease.”

“Would never tease. Ever.” She grinned and pulled the curtain back just enough to stick her head in, and maybe ogle for a few seconds. “You have two minutes.”

By the time they were out of the shower, dressed, on the metro and walking into the restaurant, it was obvious what they had gotten up to as she met up with a big group of her friends. Luckily, as per the Spanish way, half of them were just as late as Rafe and Sophie and a few didn’t even show til after they arrived.

One of Sophie’s roommates, Isobel, grinned knowingly as Sophie slid into the seat next to her, Rafe in tow. “Metro on strike?”

Sophie suppressed a grin, squeezing Rafe’s hand under the table. “You know it.”

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @sunshineitsfine44 @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal @thecuthoney

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #outer banks #outer banks fanfic #obx #obx fanfic #college rafe #frat rafe #rafe x sophie #mine #rafe cameron smut #obx smut

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lvnatiq · 3 years

Text

Modern!au Felix Escellun x tattoo artist!gn!reader | Headcanons

a/n: Hey!!! I’m back at it again with my beautifully fucked up request fill. I’m still working on three other things, while I make you wait I took it upon myself to not starve this fandom. So here you have it. Please reblog or comment so that I have a crumb of motivation to keep up.

Should I do a smutty pt. 2 ? Who knows lmao.

Your hand slipped through the pile of designs that your colleague (and your close friend) had sent you to choose and pick apart from.

Unfortunately you were spending the night at the beautiful library of your uni, trying to balance off your school work with your actual work.

You didn’t mind spending your time under the faint scent of books and the mere sound of wood beneath you feet, but what you ‘do’ mind is the fact that the library is way colder than you thought it would be after the midnight.

Good thing that the yearning for finishing your work and leaving as soon as possible made it easier to concentrate on the task at hand.

It also made it easier for you to not notice the presence of an unexpected company.

That was until you felt the warm floral yet musky scent invade your senses as you felt the weight of cotton drape around your shoulders.

You slowly turn your head towards the owner of the coat who’s already making their way out. Desperately trying to find a way to make them stop but failing to raise your voice because of the circumstances.

The last picture of the person buried in your head was their hair caressed by the wind and their quick steps.

Fast forward to a week later, going completely out of luck with finding a place to stay you decide to ask help from your friend whom interestingly has a lot to offer.

With things going a lot smoother than you expected you stopped by the tattoo shop to finish your appointments with couple of customers before you left to meet up with your possible candidate.

“Don’t bother I’ll just call him here so you could talk comfortably.”

Your work seemed to take a lot longer than usual. So you kindly accepted your friends offer as you wrapped up the leftover stuff, finishing up the last customer.

“Hey, oh-“

The sight of your guest tickled your memories as you kept glaring at the glorious figure in front of you.

Felix, completely avoiding eye contact, placed the fallen hair strand behind his ear as he kept his eyes on the table of the tattoo equipments.

You quickly got up as you grabbed his coat from the hanger and walked back where you left him.

“Thank you for the coat, you really saved me back there.”

“Oh- no problem.”

That day you two chatted and melted the ice in between. Deciding to rent the close by apartment and start your roommate era.

Your friend smiled to themselves knowing all too well that felix was completely crazy about you.

Your encounter at the library wasn’t a coincidence either, well don’t think of him as a stalker now, he just dumped a couple of coins in the fountain wishing that you would be there that night. That’s all.

As you two moved in together you realized that there were a lot of things to be ‘caught off guard’ about him but you were most baffled by the tremendous amount of books felix owned.

“Hey Lover boy ! Would you mind recommending me some of them ?”

Felix blushes terribly and you love it so much that you constantly bother him in order to catch a glimpse of his flustered state.

Unbeknownst to you, the pile that felix left on the doorstep of your room was consisted of the books that he thought of you as he read.

Felix, abandoning his night owl habit, decided to fix his sleeping schedule for the better. Definitely not because he wanted to see you at morning before you got off to the work.

Insisting on offering you a ride on your way back home with his nice car.

Nearly every single day.

He knows that it may annoy you but he knows how much you are devoted to your responsibilities so he at least wants for you to save a bit of energy before you dive into the work.

Speaking of his nice car, it tickled your curiosity so you decided to check the price tag on the web and... well...

“Felix... you don’t so some sketchy illegal shit for a living right ?”

“It’s nearly impossible for me to work at the moment because of my studies. Why did you ask ?”

“Your car costs more than the apartment we are living in right now.”

With that, you discover that Felix’s father owns one of the most prominent chains of pharmaceutical companies and that he basically flee from his fathers mansion because he was pressuring Felix to take over his position in the future.

Being his puppet was not a thing to be tolerated in Felix’s book.

That being said, your domestic life with felix was pretty soft to say the least.

Cleaning together, cooking while talking about how your day went or getting to enjoy his expressions while he spilled his frustration against authors that didn’t affect him well.

Occasionally noticing the new cooking books appearing out of nowhere

and the delicious smell of food welcoming you after work, quite often than you expect.

Finally, more skinship.

One day whilst you two got through the gates of your apartment block you noticed the open doors of the elevator so instinctively you held Felix by the hand and ran into the mirrored box.

What you didn’t notice was the fact that you didn’t let go of his hand as you two went up.

From that day on Felix used every single opportunity to sneak his hand into yours.

Don’t blame him, it’s just that your hands are warm and the feeling of security that radiates from your fingertips is his medicine.

You absolutely avoided to tease or point it out to him because you knew that he would never do it again so you went with the flow.

You really enjoyed it though.

Snaking your arms around his waist while he is organizing the bookshelf. Feeling him shutter into your arms.

Nights became more and more enjoyable once he started to accompany you.

Everytime you caught him slacking on the sofa, you used his lap as a pillow.

Felix is extremely easy to figure out, mainly because he can’t hide anything.

Also, well

He is ticklish and you use his weakness against him, a lot.

Diving your fingers down to the sides of his tummy you started to tickle every possible sensitive spot you could catch on.

“Spit it out.”

“I-I wan’t you to- give me my first tattoo.”

Telling his words apart from his adorable giggles, needless to say you were ecstatic.

“Alright. What do I get in return ?”

“Name your price.”

You thoughtfully stared at the ceiling, humming as you blurted out your very obviously well thought out response.

“I want you to show me what keeps you up all night.”

You can’t be serious.

If you asked for an organ, he would’ve been more compliant.

You didn’t know what you got yourself into.

You basically asked for him to show you his ‘masterpieces’ that he showcases on AO3. Something that you were already well aware of.

“Deal ?”

“No !”

“Good ! Let’s see what you got.”

Felix anonymously contributed to the community by writing some of the most famous slow-burn stories on the web.

Just so you know, his author persona blew up thanks to the mind blowing, earth shattering smuts he wrote.

Yeah you heard that right

Smuts

Well he is fucking panicking now.

Nonetheless days kept on going as felix prayed each night to every single deity that you forgot your ‘deal’.

The days go on even if his worries don’t.

Did I say that Felix is a whimpering, whiny mess ? he struggles to stay in one position as the needle drags upon his skin.

“If you plan to keep on moving, I might as well strap you down felix. 5 more minutes and then we are done. Please behave.”

When you put it like that how can he refuse I mean you made things worse he is internally screaming at what you just said but he is not going to refuse a command when it’s given by you.

In exchange for giving him a tattoo you decide to let him give you one even though he’s inexperienced.

He’s terrified because he thinks that something would go wrong, his hand would slip or something and he would scratch that pretty skin of yours with a horrendous tattoo.

But you assured him nevertheless and offered him to draw something very minimal and easy. He accepted eventually.

As it turns out Felix is a natural. His hand is extremely steady and the tattoo turns out great.

Throughout the process he’s constantly asking if you’re hurt because he thinks that he’s doing something wrong but in fact he’s very delicate and gentle with the strokes and his touch.

You decide to be evil and use it against him. After you touch up your tattoo you lean in very closely and turn your cheek towards him.

“What are you doing ?” He stutters.

“I can’t possibly ask you to kiss my freshly made tattoo, so won’t you give me a kiss so that it heals faster.”

If his hands were steady before they weren’t now.

As soon as his lips left your cheek you held him by his wrist and pull him back close again so that you can lean in onto his ear.

“Don’t think that I’ve forgotten our deal. I am excited to see what you have in store for me tonight.” You winked.

Then the worst thing happened

The “tonight” came.

Felix was running in circles around the living room with one hand on his forehead wondering what could get worse after this.

Maybe you’ll be disgusted or scared hell if he knows.

He wanted to do nothing to harm your relationship in anyway because you and what you two have is all he ever wanted.

...and he believes that he has a tendency to ruin things.

But what happened was beyond his expectations.

Your eyes followed every single sentence throughout the screen, the white light traced your expressions as your eyebrows raised up and down and the corners of your lips inched closer to your ears. Your lower lip became a victim of your teeth’s assault.

He was so confused. Still waiting for you to lash out or make fun of him, at least.

“I used to think ‘what am I gonna do with you’ when it comes to you. Mostly out of frustration.”

Yet here you were with the laptop closed shut and your arms behind your head as you closed your eyes and groaned.

Slowly the smile plastered on your face grew.

”Now I know what to with you.”

#felix escellun #fictif felix #last legacy #fictif last legacy #felix escellun x reader #felix x reader #felix fictif #nyx hydra #fictif #mc

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angst-fairygodmother · 3 years

Text

Love Lessons (Oliver Sway x Jess O’Neill)

Word Count: 2444 Rating: E - teasing, handjob, hair pulling, penetration, language

“Oliver?” Jess asked, tilting her head questioningly as he froze, poised above her exactly where she wanted him but staring like a deer in headlights.

“I don’t...I’m...I’ve…” he stumbled over his own words as he tried to explain, before rolling off to the side with an explosive sigh.

“You don’t have to be afraid to tell me anything,” she said, rising up on her elbow so that she was the one looking down at him now. “I’m not going to judge. I love you.”

“There’s never been girls exactly lining up to get with the weird long-haired music nerd. So I’m...not experienced with this. I don’t know what I’m doing. Nikolai said that--”

The rest of his words were mumbled as she lightly pressed a hand over his mouth to silence him.

“I don’t want to talk about Nikolai while we’re in bed, alright?” she asked, eyes crinkling with laughter. “And I don’t care about...look it’s not something you can become an expert at. Well, I guess you could, but you don’t need to be. Just...trust your instincts. And trust me.”

“What?” he asked, face contorted and words still muffled until she drew her hand away.

She leaned down, lightly kissing the corner of his mouth. “Sex is about communicating, listening.”

She dipped further, kissing the underside of his jaw. “I’ll show you.”

A third kiss to his Adam's Apple as he swallowed nervously. “What I like.”

Now she nipped at his collarbone, smirking at the whimper that escaped him. “What I don’t.”

Her hair brushed against his skin, tickling him as she placed the next on his chest, just over his heart. “What’ll make me putty in your hands.”

She sat back, looking at him. “And you tell me the same. Or we don’t have to do this right now, if you’re not ready…?”

“What? Why wouldn’t I…?” he seemed appalled that she would even suggest such a thing.

“It was a question, Ollie. You’re nervous, and seem a little uncomfortable. I just wanted to make sure you’re sure about this.”

“I am.” He stared earnestly into her eyes as he assured her, not an ounce now of hesitation.

She smiled, nodding softly in acceptance as she let him draw her down, mouths meeting and tongues twining, breathing each other like they were more necessary than air. The fingers of one hand curled against his chest, the other tangling its way into that long, wild mane she loved. Without breaking the kiss, she shifted one leg over his so that she sat across his lap.

He kept her close with his hand around her back and slowly trailed over her ribs, gently exploring the skin until he brushed over the band of her bra and stopped short. She pulled back, just enough to meet his eyes, and smirked at him.

“You think you can take that off, or do you want me to do it for you?” she teased.

He made a childish, mocking face and she giggled, the bubbly noise trailing off into a surprised gasp as he undid the clasp with shocking deftness and guided the garment off. After he cast it aside, he ran his hands slowly down her chest and stomach, and then back up to cup and squeeze the soft flesh of her breasts. Hoping he remembered how she liked to be touched, and that it was the same without layers of clothing between them, he ran the pads of his thumbs across her nipples, pressing as he did.

She arched into his touch, a soft mewling sound escaping her.

“Gentler,” she hummed as he stroked back the other way. “I can feel it without so much pressure.”

Moving torturously slow, he barely brushed across her nipples a third time before changing patterns, setting a tempo, her body writhing to a silent waltz. Hesitantly he half-sat up in the bed, bending at the waist beneath her, so that he could add his lips, soft and wet against her feverish skin.

“Oh,” she breathed, one hand bracing beside them and the other wrapping around his head, pressing him further against her.

Jess wanted to scream for how badly she wanted more, but she tried to fight back the feeling. Tonight was supposed to be about Ollie. She slid her hands slowly down his neck and across his collar, marvelling in the trail of goosebumps her touch left, even as he drove her close to begging. Gently she took him by the shoulders and pushed him back again, his lips leaving her with a soft smack. She smiled down at him, placing a quick peck to the end of his nose, motioning for him to stay put.

Slowly, she trailed featherlight kisses down his body again, continuing lower until her breath ghosted over the erection between his legs. She wrapped her fingers around it, dragging her nails teasingly along the vein. Ollie whimpered, her name coming out in a stutter as she continued to stroke it, alternating twists of her wrist and teasing the head with her thumb.

“Do you like that?” She asked, smirking down at him.

“Y-yes, fuck, Jess…” he moaned, stretching out his hands to her, wanting to touch some part, any part of her.

“Do you want to grab my hair Ollie?” she urged, shifting on the bed so he could reach. “Go ahead. You can even pull it if you like.”

Hesitantly he combed his fingers through her hair, and she slowed her own motions to mimic him, using her free hand to hold his hips as he tried to buck against her. After a few strokes and pleading moans that did nothing to move her, although each sound stirred her and she could feel her panties becoming soaked, he seemed to realize what she was doing. Experimentally his grip tightened, wrapping the strands around his hands. She rewarded him with a soft moan and picked up the speed of her motions. As he bucked harder, lifting slightly off the bed despite her weight pressing on him, she bent down, relishing in the pull against her scalp, and pressed a kiss to his head, tongue darting out to brush the slit.

He gasped sharply, yanking her head back in surprise. She yelped, the pain stinging.

“Shit. Sorry. Are you okay?” He cried, rushing to release his hold and trying to sit up to check on her.

“Relax,” she laughed, moving both hands to his shoulders and her face to hover over his. “I'm fine. Are you?”

“Yeah. Yes. Fine. Just. That felt...I don’t think I’ll last very long if you keep doing that.” He flushed, embarrassed by the revelation, and she leaned in to kiss him softly.

“It’s okay Ollie. Those are things I want you to tell me. I just want to make you feel good. And I don’t mind whether we don’t make it to tab A, slot B tonight.”

He frowned in confusion before sputtering a laugh at her euphemism before sobering. “I do though. I want to make you feel good too Jess. That’s...all I ever want.”

“Oh Ollie,” she sighed, brushing back his wild hair. “You’re too sweet.”

She kissed him again and he wrapped his arms tighter around her shoulders, keeping her close and pressing his tongue between her lips. She sighed into it, parting easily for him, letting him consume her until her head spun from the lack of air.

As she pulled back enough for them both to breathe, his hand wandered down her spine, making her shiver. She ground her clothed core against him as he dove to reconnect their lips and held her, seeking any amount of friction she could, their tangle of tenderness and passion making her head spin.

“I want you.” She surprised herself with how suddenly and fiercely the words slipped from her.

“I’m yours,” he promised, voice cracking slightly.

Her heart fluttered, but the slick between her thighs and the fire in her stomach kept her from appreciating the sentiment.

“No. I mean…” she took one of his hands in hers, reaching down and guiding it to her wet folds for him to feel. “I want you. Inside me, on top of me, anything. Please.”

He inhaled sharply as their overlapped fingers found her clit, leading him in circles over it that made her keen softly into his skin where she pebbled kisses to the underside of his jaw. Cautiously he cradled her with his free arm and rolled them so that she lay beneath him, hair spread like a halo. Slowly, he slid her underwear down, tracing lines on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs and the back of her knees, fingers reverent.

“Wait,” she said, stopping him cold as he started to make his way back up her body.

“What...what is it? Did I do something wrong?”

“No. No, you’re...god you’re amazing. But...the last thing either of us needs right now is a baby,” she repressed a shudder at the thought. “Bottom drawer.”

She pointed to the nightstand to her left, waiting patiently where she lay as he scrambled to retrieve a condom and fumbled with the little foil package. Trying to suppress a laugh, she took it from him, pulling him close as she slid it over his erection, making him moan again in the process.

“There, now...where were we?” she teased, brushing him through her slick, teasing herself on him. “Right about, here?” She lined him up with her entrance as she spoke.

He nodded, biting his lip and closing his eyes as he slowly slid inside.

“Oliver,” she whined maybe a tiny bit exaggeratedly, as he filled her, satiating a hunger in her gut.

He groaned as he continued to press, seeking a seat deep within her, until he couldn’t go any more. Then he froze for a moment, confidence lost. Wrapping one hand around the back of his neck and scratching lightly with her nails to catch his attention, she pulled his gaze up from where they joined and made him meet her eyes. Sure that he was paying attention, that he could see the need and desire she felt for him, she rolled her hips slowly, leading him into motion.

His thrusts remained erratic and sharp and punctuated by grunts and pants, driving hard and imprecise. She took one of his hands again, the other braced against the pillows beside her head, and led him to her clit, reminding him of the motions that made her cry his name and gasp, made him moan as her walls fluttered around him in response.

“Yes, Ollie,” she panted, her hand dropping to clutch the sheets as he proved a quick study of her body, musician’s instinct helping him to play her to crescendo. “Fuck. Yes. I’m so close…”

“Jess! Fuck!” The way her body reacted to him and the earlier teasing proved to be too much for him as he found his own climax with a cry.

He continued to thrust awkwardly into her, face twisting in guilt that he didn’t bring her to completion, until he had spilled completely into the condom. He tried to keep on even as he softened and finally gave up. As he pulled out, hands still working, by chance he brushed against the sweet spot within her and something snapped.

She tugged on his neck, pulling him into a crushing, needy kiss as the orgasm she didn’t expect to have tonight found her, waves of fire overtaking her and leaving her a puddle. He stopped, still half inside, feeling her body spasm around him, pulling away though she tried to chase his lips, a look of concern crossing his face. When he found no trace of pain in her face, only the blissed smile and glassy eyes she fixed on him, he reconnected, tongue tangling with hers before he collapsed to her side.

“Wow,” he panted, rolling onto his back, and she laughed, resting her cheek against his chest despite the sheen of sweat covering it.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed, drifting in and out of sleep tucked close under Ollie’s arm, her head resting above his heart. She was dimly aware of his fingers tracing patterns on her shoulder where he held her, and of the stiff way that he laid there, staring up at the ceiling rather than sleeping. But she knew him well enough by now to know that asking him for his thoughts wouldn’t get much of anywhere. Instead, she waited, tracing her own shapes on his sternum.

Finally, after she was starting to think that they’d spend the rest of their night in this holding position, Ollie spoke.

“I found it,” he said, sounding sadder than she expected from such a proclamation.

“Oh,” she tried not to let her own disappointment creep into her tone. She knew their time was short, and that he was leaving once he found his record, but as a nebulous thing that didn't sting nearly as much as the reality, or the fact that he had kept it from her until now, did.

“I’ve got it tucked away until I can figure out how to leave with it.”

“Figure out? Aren’t you just going to put it in your luggage and go?”

“I need a reason. She’ll be suspicious if I just take off.”

“I could pretend to break up with you? I think anyone would buy that as a reason to cut your losses and bail.”

“No, that won’t work.” He shook his head, the ends of his long hair tickling her cheek.

“Why not?”

“Because I want you to come with me.”

She sat up in bed, curling one knee to her chest and leaning her chin on it as she turned to look at him, eyes wide.

“Ollie...you know I can't.”

“Why not?” He sat up too, facing her. “Screw this place.”

“Flawed or not, this is my home. I...have responsibilities, and I built a life here. Which means no matter how much I want to, I can't just pack up and run away with Prince Charming.”

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but Jess, I love you.” The tone of voice seemed to say that should be enough, and that she shouldn’t need anything else to do just that.

She sighed, scrubbing a hand over her face. “I...can we talk about this tomorrow? I don’t want to ruin tonight…and we’re both tired...”

He looked for a moment like he might argue before he deflated, pulling her into his arms and they both lay back down. “Yeah, sure. Tomorrow.”

#I'm feeling a lot of emotions #and burying that by working on other projects #not dissimilar to Stress Smut #and of course I wouldn't be me if it didn't end on a hint of angst #I hope y'all enjoy #Oliver Sway x Jess O'Neill #The Song of Sway Lake fic #I've never written someone's first time before so this was an experiment. and probably also unrealistic #but hopefully it makes up for it with other qualities #ok. off to bed now

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kzuhadovey · 3 years

Text

promises must be kept

character: timeskip!hinata x f!reader

type: fluff

warnings: -

song recommendations: mrs.magic - strawberry guy

remember to drink your water and eat your food, i love you!!

At the ripe age of 7 years old, you made a promise.

“At 25 years old, if we’re single, we get married.” “25? That’s a little early.” “That’s old enough. I’m sure that when we’re 25 we’ll look old so no one will like us.” “Okay then.” “Okay. It’s on, Y/N.” “You’re stuck with me for life, Shoyo.”

You smiled at yourself as you find the messily scribbled paper you found deep in your drawer. It was a scrawny drawing of you and Hinata, with the words, “Y/N and Shoyo gets married when we’re 25.” The memories rush back, like a wave of nostalgia, and you sigh. If only things were that easy. You and Shoyo have been friends since the literal day you’ve been born. You guys were a package deal- you have Y/N? You get Shoyo aswell. You both told each other everything, from your first kisses to your other friends’ secrets. You supported Shoyo through his volleyball career, and he supported you throughout yours. He was the best friend you could ask for.

Until that day, you moved to Paris. You’re a writer, and you’ve had over 5 million copies of your latest book, Over The Moon. It was a love story like you usually wrote. And even though your writing career was soaring, your own love life hasn’t been so good. Yes, you were an astonishing writer with beautiful facial features, but you’ve never found the right, exact guy. He was always too pushy, or too confident- it was never the right match for you. So ever since, your love life has been incognito. You’ve mostly focused on writing for now- your book was almost finished. You just needed an ending- which you couldn’t exactly grasp. The two main characters, Tracee and Elliot, were definitely in love, but you didn't really know what to do with them. Writer’s block, as it was called.

After around an hour of staring at the blank page on your laptop, you decide to take a walk outside. It was a very beautiful day- the streets were packed with tourists and small shops were blooming with food and objects. You stared at one of the shops- a sweet, enticing Lilly grasping your attention. “Might as well just buy it.” You thought to yourself as you approached the old lady selling them. “Salut! Combien coûtent ces lis?” You said, taking a bouquet in your hands, sniffing them. “Bonjour mon cher. L'un coûte 4 euros.” The lady said as she started packing one for you. “J'en prends deux, s'il vous plaît. Je vous remercie.“ You said as you paid the lady 8 euros.

”Uhm… Pouvez-vous- a-acheter tr-trois, right? trois fleurs, s'il vo- vous plaît?“ A man beside you said. You chuckle. He was obviously not from here- he had broken french. You squinted as you tried to make sense of his sentence. ”Quoi? Je ne comprends pas!“ The lady said as she rolled her eyes, passing you your flowers. You gulped- the man seemed nervous. His cheeks were red and he was looking down of… embarrassment, maybe? ”Il veut trois de ces fleurs.“ You say, pointing to a bouquet of pink-white orchids. He looks at you with wide eyes- why’d you even want to help him? ”Oh. Ces étrangers, ils parlent à peine français.“ The old lady rolled her eyes as she prepared the bouquet. ”C'est 11 euros pour un bouquet.“ The lady said as she shoved the flowers onto the man’s chest lightly. The man seemed to catch on with the numbers as he hurriedly took out his wallet, paying the lady. ”Passez une bonne journée, ma chère.“ You say as you walk away, sniffing your flowers.

“Mademoiselle! S'il vouz plait- wait.” The man said as he rushed in front of you. He had fiery orange hair, and he had tan-ish skin. “Merci. I- I just came here, yesterday.” He said, scratching his neck awkwardly. You would usually just laugh it off and say your welcome since it wasn’t your first shenanigans with tourists. But this man was special- you recognized him. With the way he spoke, and the way he combed through his hair-

“Hinata?”

His eyes glance over to yours as the gears spin in his brain. “Y-Y/N? Ah- I found you!” He shouts, surprised. Your heart is beating so fast- you could barely recognize him. He’s grown taller over the years- and his hair’s turned more orange. “Hinata… Hello.” You mutter out. Your head can’t process this- the last time you saw him- he was literally tiny. Bruises on his arms and a big, large smile on his face. “I missed you so much!” Hinata says as he jumps to wrap you in his embrace. He smelled like citrus- sour and sweet at the same time. You nuzzle your head in his neck- you finally found your best friend. “Shoyo.” You muttered, tears pricking your eyes. Your stomach’s whirling with nervousness and your brain’s spinning with excitement.

“So… you’re a writer now!” Hinata says as the waiter gives him his coffee. You were both sat in a cafe- you’ve decided to catch up with him. “I- I saw your book in Brazil last year. You’re so famous!” You chuckle- Hinata looks hella excited. “It’s nothing, Hinata. You’re better than me- how are the others, by the way? I saw your game with the Schweden Adlers.” You cock your head to the side curiously. “Y-yes. I’m in a team with Bokuto and Atsumu now.” Hinata chuckles. He’s turned out from a scrawny middle school amateur to a literal professional player. “What are you doing in Paris?” You sip more of your hot chocolate. “I- I wanted to look for you. I heard you were in Paris.” His cheeks turn red- it was amusing, really. So, he came for you. WAIT- HE WAS LOOKING FOR YOU?? “Me? Why?” You widen your eyes in surprise. “Because- I wanted to see you! It’s the first break I’ve had in a heck long time- might aswell take a vacation too, right?” Hinata lets out a weak chuckle. “Woah- so it’s your first time here?” You ask excitedly. Hinata nods and you smile widely. “Yes!- Let’s go around- you have nothing to do, right?” You ask as you stand up. “W-well- yes- but I don’t want to- take your time up-,” Hinata says, chuckling. “No no no! It’s fine! I’m free today anyway.” You smile as you take him outside. “You’re my best friend, Shoyo. I will always make time for you.”

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

You both slump on your sofa tiredly. “I love Paris so much!” Hinata says, jumping up from the sofa. You chuckle- he was always a hyper boy. “The louvre, and then Notre Dame- It’s so pretty!” Hinata says as he sits back down, sighing heavily. You chuckle softly- he was like a very hyper puppy. You both have been exploring Paris all day, talking and taking pictures. You ended the day with dinner and now you were both slumped on your sofa. You yawn and stretch your arms- before laying your head in Hinata’s lap. He was soft and warm- his thighs were very much like pillows. Hinata tenses up- your head’s in his lap. “Do you have anywhere to sleep tonight?” You ask, staring at him. He tries to relax, leaning back more. “I actually- hoped you would help me find a hotel for me.” Hinata chuckles, scratching his neck. “You can sleep in my place. We’re friends, right?” You say as you yawn again. Hinata’s eyes light up and he smiles. “Thank you!” Hinata smiles and he looks around. You’ve got a pretty tiny apartment, with the view of a flower garden. It was already pretty quiet since it was late at night but you could still hear people talking far down the road. You notice Hinata staring at the balcony view and you chuckle. “It’s pretty, right?” You ask as you made your way towards the balcony.

A wave of fresh air hits your face as you step onto the balcony. The night air is peaceful and calm- just how you liked it. “Hey, I have a question, Y/N!” Hinata says as he takes off his jacket and joins you on the balcony. “Yeah?” You ask as you look at him. You take the time to observe him more- his cheeks are a warm tone of peach and freckles dotted his face. He’s tanner than when you last saw him- he’s also gotten buffer and taller. He looks really pretty under the moonlight. “Y/N? Hello?” Hinata snaps you out of your thoughts and you smile awkwardly. “Sorry- I spaced out.” You chuckle. “It’s- okay,” Hinata says, smiling. “I need to tell you something.”

You nod and eye him more- he’s redder now- he seems nervous. “Y/N. I like you.” He mutters under his breath, looking down. Your heart drops to your stomach and you gulp. Did you hear him right?- “W-what?” He shuts his eyes nervously. “Y/N! I like you a lot! Will you marry me?!” He shouts and the minute the words leave his mouth your eyes widen. Marry?! Your head is spinning with confusion and butterflies were swarming your stomach. Your eyes are looking around frantically in an attempt to see if this was a dream. “Y/N. Do- do you like me back?” Hinata squeaks out, snapping you out of your thoughts. You think again- well, kinda. You’ve always laughed more at his jokes than others, you were touchy with him, and well- he was your first kiss. “Hinata…” You manage to mutter out and fear strikes in Shoyo’s eyes.

“Yes, I like you.” You reply slowly.

Shit shit shit- what was he gonna say- “Thank you for telling me. Don’t lie though- I really like you- and I don’t want to get my heartbroken, o-okay?” Hinata mutters out, scratching his neck. You smile a little, looking at the floor. Hinata takes a deep breath before kneeling down on one knee. “Now… will you… marry me? Please?” Your heart stops- what the hell was he doing? “We made- a pact- right? You’d marry me when you’re 25 and still- single.” Hinata mutters out and you finally remember the letter you found earlier. Wasn’t that a joke? “Will you marry me… please?” Hinata takes your hands in his and kisses them- making you blush.

Your head was very busy. Thoughts were running around and your heart was beating really fast. You didn’t know what to say- you wanted to say yes but it was so sudden, but then again you didn’t want to reject him- he just said he didn’t want to get his heart broken. “…Yes. I’ll marry you, I guess.” You say, chuckling. Hinata looks up at you- his eyes are bright and happy. “OH MY GOD- Y/N I LOVE YOU!” Hinata shouts as he takes you in his arms, wrapping you in a large hug. Your bones feel crushed- he definitely turned stronger. You giggle a little bit, nuzzling your head in his neck. “I love you so much! Y/N’s gonna be my wife!” Hinata says as he shouts across the balcony. “I’M GETTING MARRIED GUYS!!!”

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

You huff in annoyance before dialing your now husband. “Yes, my wifey?” Hinata says, answering the phone. You chuckle at that silly nickname- he’s been using it ever since you two got married. “Can you pick Emmy up from daycare? They’re closing up early and I have to go to a book signing.” You say as you walk to your car. Ever since you moved to Japan with Hinata, life’s been great. Your newest book has been pretty successful, and you have a daughter with Hinata! “Ah, alright. I’ll pick her up in a sec- practice is almost done.” Hinata says. You can hear Bokuto in the background- he’s screaming and throwing balls around. “HEY SHOYO IS THAT YOUR WIFE?!” Atsumu shouts and you chuckle. “Sorry, wifey- I have to go or else Atsumu will attack you-” Hinata says as he makes a kissing noise. “I love you, bye!” The phone hangs up and you chuckle. This marriage has been a little tough since you both married early- but it’s been alright. Promises had to be kept, after all.

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especially-heinous-ada · 4 years

Text

Beard (Barba x Reader)

Hello, friends! Sorry for disappearing off the face of the planet for a while. But I’m back with some smut, if that helps make up for it! *nervous laughter* Without any further ado, here is said smut. Female reader x Rafael Barba. Reader is just coming home from a trip where she has been away from Barba for two weeks. When she arrives, she finds he looks a bit different than when she left...

***

Rafael wasn’t sure what kind of welcome he was expecting when you came home, but… he guessed it would be something a little more tender or romantic than the first words that came out of your mouth after entering your shared apartment.

“Whoa, papi, what am I lookin’ at here?” You exclaimed, setting down your luggage. Rafael approached you, looking confused.

“What?” Rafael asked, head on a swivel, searching the room for what you were talking about. He stopped in front of you and you laughed, reaching your hands out and placing one on either side of his face.

“This.” You said, looking into his eyes with an amused smile.

“Oh.” He replies with nervous laughter. “I can get rid of it. Since I haven’t had any court appearances, and you weren’t here, I just kind of got lazy with shaving. I can go get rid of it--”

“No, no.” You interrupt, frowning. “I like it.”

“Really?” He asks, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

“Yeah.” You said absentmindedly, as you scratched his jawline where a dark beard had grown in. You’d been gone almost two weeks, and doubted he’d shaved at all since you’d left. It was a rather impressive growth for that amount of time. He hummed in appreciation of your scratches.

“Mmm, amor, that feels good.” He breathed, closing his eyes. As you continued to scratch his jawline, he made the most delightful little hums and moans, and you had to admit, part of you was proud of the effect you were having. Another part of you, however, found the noises somewhat sexual. Which, of course, reminded another part of you that it had been two weeks since the last time Rafael had been inside of you. Which was, of course, two weeks too long.

You removed one hand from Rafael’s jaw, skirting it down the front of his body, then paused to look at his face. If he noticed your hand’s change in position, he didn’t show it. With a wicked smile, you gently traced the line of his zipper.

“Know what else feels good?” You asked, just above a whisper. Rafael’s eyes remained closed, but a smile tugged at his lips, signifying he did, indeed, know what you were alluding to. Verbally, however, he feigned innocence.

“No, amor, I’m not sure I can guess. Can you give me a hint?” He opened his eyes, and they had a naughty little glint in them. God, you loved when he got that look in his eyes. His smile widened, and you just about melted.

Trying to keep the cool, seductress vibe you had started, you met his gaze and held it as your hand slid underneath the waistband of his pants. His cock twitched and strained against the fabric of his boxers as you rubbed your hand up and down his still-clothed length.

Rafael let out a pensive “hmm,” as if he were still trying to guess what it was you had meant. You chuckled, taking this as a sign that you had to up the ante if you wanted him to stop being coy. You used both hands to tug down his pants and boxers, letting them fall to the floor. Once his bottom half was fully naked, you resumed your teasing from earlier. Gently, slowly, you stroked him, and he started to moan.

“You’re right,” he breathed, “that does feel good.” You let out a chuckle.

“That was just the hint.”

“Oh.” Rafael said quietly, torn between keeping up the playful banter, and the increased excitement you amped up with each teasing movement of your wrist. After a few more moments, he must have decided to give up on the banter. He gave a low, growl-like sound of approval before placing a hand on the back of your head and pulling you in for a deep kiss. His other hand laid on the small of your back, drawing you closer until you were pressed tightly against his hardness. In your excitement, you let out a small moan, but it was swallowed by his hungry kisses.

Both his hands found their way to your hips. Then, as if he were indecisive, they quickly shifted to your ass, where he gave you a quick smack. He gave a noise of approval and must have decided that’s where his hands should stay. Each hand gripped one cheek firmly.

“Have I ever told you you have an amazing ass?” He breathed, finally ceasing his kisses.

“Not often enough.” You teased. He chuckled in response, and you ran your hands over his shoulders and down. You slipped your hands up his shirt and tugged it over his head with his cooperation.

“I’m a bit chilly now.” He said, now fully naked, standing in the living room.

“I can warm you up.” You said suggestively, pressing yourself against him once more and laying wet kisses on his neck. You trailed your kisses down his chest and stomach, dropping down until you were on your knees in front of him. You looked up at him before slowly licking a stripe up his shaft.

“Mmm.” He moaned. You were just about to take him into your mouth when he stopped you. “Amor, that window’s still open.” He gestured to the open curtains across the room. You sighed and turned back to look at the window.

“Papi, we’re so high up. It’s not like people just walking by on the street are gonna see us.”

“What about the neighbors?” He said, sounding concerned. You put on your most sinful smile as you looked back to him.

“Let them look.” You said. “It’s our apartment. If they want to be nosy, what they see is their own fault.” Rafael laughed.

“You make a compelling argument, amor. Especially when you look so damn good on your knees.”

Your heart jumped. You loved Rafael’s dirty talk. It was even hotter after two weeks away. And holy shit, he looked good with a beard. You took a moment to appreciate the rugged, manly look it gave him. Another flash of lust came over you, and you resumed your task.

Rafael inhaled sharply as you took him in your mouth. Slowly at first, you moved up and down, taking more of him until you reached his base, then you pulled away and stroked him once more. He moaned in appreciation and you took him again, this time, gently cupping his balls and massaging them. With a groan, Rafael thrust his hips forward impatiently. You gagged slightly, but appreciated his enthusiasm, urging him on. A few more excited thrusts before you pulled away from him, standing and shedding your dress.

His hungry eyes devoured your form, and good god, you were so turned on. Was it possible to explode from need? Because you were getting pretty close.

“Your turn.” He said with a smile, voice husky with lust. He picked you up and carried you over to the couch, laying you down gently, with your legs dangling over the edge. You started to scoot back, but he stopped you, grabbing you by the ankles and pulling you back. Then, he knelt down. You watched expectantly as he tugged off your lacy panties (worn in anticipation of just such a lustful reunion). With a naughty little smirk, he met your eye before dipping his head down between your thighs and lapping at your center.

“Oh, shit.” You breathed, as he wasted no time bringing you close to climax with his tongue. He gave a little hum of approval at your noises, and slid one finger inside of you. “Fuck.” You swore. Rafael always knew how to bring out your sailor mouth, in the best possible way. Just as you were about to come, he eased back, removing the finger and taking away his mouth. He clearly wanted to tease you.

You felt the heat of his breath on your inner thighs, then the softness of his lips as he turned to one leg and kissed the tender flesh. You let out a little giggle at the tickling sensation of his beard brushing against your thigh. He exhaled in a little chuckle, brushing his beard against you to tickle you some more, and you laughed again. He turned and did the same with your other thigh, and your laughter grew, until you giggled uncontrollably. Then, abruptly, he reclaimed your center, quickly making you forget why you were laughing.

“Oh, papi.” You moaned, knowing how much it wound him up to hear you say it. You needed to come—no time for teasing. It worked, and Rafael sucked hard on your clit, drawing a jagged breath from you. “So good, papi. Don’t stop.” You felt the pressure build, then break like waves on a jagged, rocky shore.

“Yes! Rafael! Yes!” After most of the intensity passed, you tried to steady your breathing. Rafael seemed to approve as he lifted his head with a smile. He stood and watched you pant below him, still coming down from your orgasm. With a chuckle, he helped you slide up the couch and got on all fours on the cushion, so that he hovered above you.

You looked up at him, breathing finally slowing down, but your body was still excited. Your heart still raced. He looked at you with admiration, as if you were some beautiful goddess, and you felt yourself blush.

“I almost forgot how good you are at that.” You joked, to lighten the moment. Rafael exhaled in a nearly silent laugh.

“Certainly you haven’t forgotten how good I am at this?” He asks, teasing his cock at your folds.

“How could I forget that?” You whisper in breathless anticipation. He smiles and kisses you slowly. He lifts your hips and guides himself, gently entering you. You moan as you feel him slowly fill you. “Oh, I missed this.” You think aloud. A cocky grin spreads across Rafael’s face, and you realize you said that out loud. But you don’t care anymore. All that matters right now is that you’re home, and Rafael is too, and he’s about to fuck every other concern out of your mind.

“Is that so?” Rafael teases, slowly beginning a rhythm. “You missed this cock?” He punctuates the last word with a deep, hard thrust.

“Fuck.” Another thrust. “Yes, papi. I missed it so much.” You grab at his shoulders and back, digging in with your nails in an attempt to stay grounded as the rest of the world seemed to disappear. Rafael groans, enjoying the sensation. The room is filled with the sounds of your pleasure, punctuated with the slapping of skin on skin. Yes. You missed this.

The rhythm picks up and you close your eyes, focusing on the building pressure. The heat radiating between the two of you is building, as well. You look up at him to see his brow furrowed with concentration. He smiles when his eyes meet yours, and gives an extra-saucy little hip wiggle. A half-moan-half-squeal noise slips from your mouth as you can’t contain your pleasure. It’s not like any noise you’ve ever heard, and you start to wonder where the hell it came from, but the thought is quickly pushed away as Rafael pounds deeper inside you.

“Yes. Yes-”

“Are you gonna come for me, amor?” Rafael coos. You nod and manage to make an “uh-huh” between pants and moans. He shifts position and throws your legs over his shoulders. The new angle somehow feels even better than the last, if that were possible. A few more thrusts, and you start to feel lightheaded. You close your eyes and focus on the feeling of a quickly approaching orgasm. You feel the warmth between your legs. The smell of his cologne surrounds you. You hear his sharp breath. When you open your eyes moments later, he holds your gaze once more.

“Come for papi.” He commands, his voice gravelly and low. It was as if your body had been waiting for the invitation. All at once, the sensation washed over you. Hot. Intense. You were filled to the brim with pleasure, and couldn’t stop the chain of cuss words from spilling out of your mouth even if you wanted to. The intensity of your orgasm quickly coaxed Rafael’s out of him, and you felt the heat of it fill you. With a moan and a smile, you watched his face as he emptied into you.

After several long moments, Rafael gave you a soft, slow kiss before pulling out. He laid down and pulled you on top of him, where you nestled your head into his chest with a pleased hum. You absentmindedly traced imaginary shapes on his chest with your pointer finger while you listened to his breath slowly return to normal.

“Maybe I’ll keep the beard a little while longer.” He laughs.

#rafael barba #barba x reader #smut #fluff #svu fanfic #beard

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bittybattybunny · 3 years

Photo

OKAY so here’s the cursed into a dragon story and doodle!!

I wanted to draw the cute knight and the dragon (AKA Ru had an old suit of armor at his brother’s and had no idea the dragon he was asked about was his not GF)

Fic time!! and reminder this idea was suggested by @creepyfuzzymelon!! It did get a lil long for a ficlet but eh it works! Enjoy!

She paused in front of the red door and brushed her hair behind her ear before she walked in. She sneezed as she walked in, the smell of incense making her nose burn. She frowned as her head began to spin.

“Welcome.” Came the shop keeper’s sing song voice. Her green blue eyes twinkled with mischief as she saw the woman.

“Hello.” Eclipse gave a smile but she wanted to leave. Not wishing to be rude she decided to walk around some before she ran from the over scented store. She looked at the cluttered shop shelves and her eyes landed on an ornate dragon mask. She frowned looking at it. She picked it up and turned it around curiously. There was writing in the back. She squinted trying to read it.

“It says to the wearer their heart will become fierce until the knight calms it.”

Eclipse jolted, having not even noticed the woman sneaking up behind her. She felt a cold chill as she looked at the woman’s smile as she chuckled.

“Don’t be so skittish dear.” she cooed and took the mask in her hands. Eclipse watched as she spun it around in her hands, producing a ribbon from the air and tying it on. “I wonder what form you would take?”

Eclipse could only gasp as the mask was shoved on her face and she was thrown from the shop.

She blinked a few times. She reached to remove the mask but it wouldn’t come off. In fact the more she tried the firmer it seemed to stick. She struggled and pulled. She felt a burning sensation starting to grow in her chest. She clawed and shoved at the mask. Her body began to contort as she feverishly tried to get the mask off. She gasped as her face felt the cold chill. She grit her teeth as she felt her face ripping at its own seams. Fangs jutting. She roared as her bones grew and rearranged, horns shoving through her skull as she fell to all fours. She clawed the cobblestone sidewalks of the small village as her clothing fell in shreds.

Wisps began to light up as black scales began to grow and cover her body as her newly formed tail lashed around. Large wings caught between bird and moth spread as she panted and slowly the burning subsided. She collapsed on the stone. Her head was heavy. She sighed.

“Way to go Moony. You walked into that one.” she groaned as she lifted her head to look herself over. She lifted a hand and looked at the claws and whined.

“Great.” she moved to stand. At least a dragon was similar in limbs to a wolf so she had that going for her. The wings were a new feature. She lifted one to inspect it and looked around. She had entered the shop in the downtown of Subcon City but.

Small buildings with no life surrounded the dragon-woman as she walked around. She raised her head to look at the rising moon and huffed. She turned to inspect for her bag among the remains of her clothes but couldn’t find it.

“Guess no phone calls.” she flicked her forked tongue as she jumped on top of one of the buildings. She narrowed her eyes as she saw a church and decided to get a better view.

A wind blew as she climbed up to the steeple and looked over the rolling fields.

She looked at the sky and sighed, “Fierce until the night calms it huh?” she shook her head side to side. “Hopefully this mask comes off soon then.” she ran off, deciding to enjoy the empty fields in the meanwhile.

------

“A dragon?” Snatcher asked as Kaya gave a frown. She scratched her cheek as he stood in her office.

“Yeah. reports of one in the old ruins of Tir na Nocht.” she sighed, “I put SO MANY BARRIERS!” she puffed her cheek annoyed, “I tried to make sure NOTHING would get into Ti Na Nocht when i left!” she fumed, “And this dragon comes WALTZING IN LIKE SHE OWNS IT!” she stomped her foot, “The worst bit is NO ONE CAN GET NEAR!”

“So what does that have to do with me?” he raised a brow, “You know I’m busy watching the kid since Eclipse is working a job.”

“See that’s the thing!” she frowned, “I thought she was home! I was going to ask HER to do this! She’s fought dragons before! And I would ask Jacob since he’s a dragonborn, but he went off on another mission last week with Maki and Tiffny to deal with an issue in the elvish kingdom.” she rubbed her neck.

“Why don’t you go?”

“Didn’t you hear me?” she scoffed, “NO ONE can get near!” She groaned and winced as she rolled her sleeves up, revealing bandages all over her arms. “I already TRIED and that bitch roasted me with wisps!” She whined, “And even my healing takes a bit when it’s soul fire.” she sighed, “it’s made to chew up magic in the first palace after all.”

His eyes widened as he looked. He hadn’t ever thought the Solaria Umbra could even be harmed, much less burned. He frowned, “So why me? I’m less resistant than you are.”

“You have a blessing of attraction. It should work on the dragon. If not throw this down.” she handed him a glass orb, “it’ll instantly send you back here.” she explained. “If you’re worried, I saw some Solgarian armor at your brother’s when I was visiting, you could wear that!” she teased, “a knight in shining armor!”

He thought about it and sighed, “Yeah, let’s do that then. Let me just text Cookie see if she can watch Hattie.”

“Oh, right the kid. I’d say i can watch but I need to drop you off, if it takes a bit I can get her from school even if my arms are bacon.” she snickered, “Since I am the one asking you to do this for me.” she moved around the desk and began to shift the shadows. Snatcher sighed and walked over as she used them to send them to the woods.

Marcus jumped as the two appeared on the porch. His potion flying from his hands. Kaya reached to catch it and screeched as it landed on her burned hands and then the floor. Marcus stared at the ruined mix and brushed his hair back annoyed.

“Yes?” he asked, hands on his hips as his tail wisped.

Kata frowned, “Can we take that Solgarian armor?” she asked, “I’m sending your brother to calm and agitated dragon down.”

“Ru? To a dragon?” Marcus deadpanned and rolled his eyes, “Sure I guess.”

“Sweet.” She moved the book shelf to head into the storage room. She grabbed the golden armor with a snicker, “Did you know my dad’s armor actually does have a similar look?” she asked.

“Does it?” Marcus floated over, “Interesting. But it makes sense. Father wanted his approval more than anything.”

Kaya snorted and chewed her lip.

“What?” Snatcher asked taking the suit.

“My dad LOATHES your dad,” she admitted as the two former princes stared.

She laughed loudly, “My dad thinks your dad is a fucking piece of shit who doesn’t deserve his bloodline!” she wheezed. She adjusted her bandages, “I mean he picked a fight with ME!” she snickered, “and my dad is a god of UNION not war.” she pointed out.

Snatcher snickered as he started to pull the armor on. “Yeah sounds right.”

“I pecking LOVE that fact!” Marcus cackled. He looked, “wow you still fit in that.”

“Huh?” Kaya blinked.

Snatcher adjusted the armor and looked around, “my sword should be here isn’t it?”

“Wait--” Kaya’s mouth dropped.

“Yeah I have it upstairs though on the wall display.” Marcus explained.

Kaya looked between them confused.

“Oh, cool. That’s easy.” Snatcher looked around, “is my scabbard around too?”

“Should be upstairs as well.”

“WAIT!” Kaya gasped getting their attention. She frowned, “are you saying that’s YOUR armor??? Not random?”

“Yes? It’s a little tighter but, this was when i used to train with the guards. I wasn’t about to get hurt. Estelle kept it here at the cabin after I was engaged as I didn’t fight anymore. Same with my sword.” Snatcher laughed at the teenager who shook her head and scoffed. He sneered, “What did you think I was a laze about?”

“N-No I just thought you were all books! The whole lawyer thing!” she admitted.

“I had no magic, of course I did something to protect myself!” He cackled.

Marcus snickered, “I can fight with a bow and arrow you know.”

She turned red and huffed, “well, I knew that one, i let you use my archery range.” she scowled, “L-Look let’s just get this dragon dealt with! I don’t want it to get more annoying!”

“Right.” Snatcher scowled.

“Kaya…” he stated as she looked at him.

“You said you thought Eclipse was home?” he asked, he’d thought on it for a bit but not too much, “I thought she was working. She had left and said she’d be out of cell service.”

“I called her phone and it said she was home.” she admitted with a frown, “I’ll look into it. Maybe she’s a frog again?” she suggested.

He frowned and nodded. “Please.” he scowled as he pulled his hair from his face, “let’s go get my sword and head off then.” His stomach flipped.

-----

Her claws traced the rocks as she snarled. It’d been a few days and she was starving. Nothing lived in the area that she could hunt. Her eyes narrowed as she felt someone getting near HER territory. She slunk across the grounds. Tail lashed around as she sniffed. She smelt that annoying twig that’d entered her territory a day before. But there was a new one. Sweet. Salty. She liked it. She licked her jaws as she growled.

“So a giant black dragon with weird wings?” he stated with a frown. He sighed as he looked at the barrier and stepped inside the area. Instantly he felt eyes on him. He frowned and reached for the hilt of his sword. He saw a flash of blue and held a hand up, the wisp nudging him. He chuckled. He frowned. His eyes grew wide.

Wisps.

He turned to where he felt the eyes and began to run towards it.

The dragon blinked in shock as the man came barreling at her. She reared up in her surprise and he looked up as she emerged from the grasses. He sighed.

“Guess I don’t need Kaya to look that up.” he reached his hands up.

The dragon whined and lowered her head. She nuzzled against him, chirping.

“What did you do you silly woman,” he asked as the dragon licked him. He snickered as he pet her muzzle. She purred as he rolled his eyes. He kissed the front of her nose and she huffed a small flame.

He frowned, “well. That didn’t work.” he scowled. A kiss didn’t work. He gasped when she pushed her head against him and he laughed as he reached at her horns. He frowned as he noticed an odd line of scales.

“Eclipse…” he frowned.

She blinked. Eclipse. Was that her? Her eyes flickered.

“Eclipse?” he asked a bit more forcefully. Her head hurt. She whined and pulled away from him.

He huffed and put his hands on his hips. She looked at the knight and growled. He made her head hurt.

“Eclipse show me your head again.” he ordered.

She shook her head and sat definitely. He glared and she lowered her head with a small huff of flames escaping her lips. He walked along and reached that odd line of scales. He frowned as his fingers traced it. It felt like an edge. He scowled and gripped it. The dragon lurched. He held tightly. He wrapped an arm around one of her horns as he gripped the edge. As he held it, it seemed to lift. He grit his teeth as she bucked and shook her head. She roared and growled as he continued to work on the edge, the scaling pulling up. He gasped as there was a spark of blue flame and the dragon collapsed to the ground. He winced as he hit the earth when she slammed into it in her collapse.

He pulled and slowly, her body shrank. The scales vanished, the sound of snapping bones as her body reworked to human form. He shifted her to his lap as he pulled the mask fully off. She laid unconscious on his lap. He sighed and looked at the mask in his hands. He lit it up in blue flames, the mask crackling as it burned to ash.

Shaking the remains from his hand and focused back on Eclipse. He brushed her hair from her face as her ragged breathing grew more steady. He felt his cheeks grow red as he realized she was naked.

Her eyes fluttered open slowly. She looked up at him.

“Snatcher?” she asked softly. She groaned and moved to sit, falling against him. He gasped moving to steady her.

“Careful… you just were a huge ass dragon.” he snickered.

She whined and buried her face against his shoulder. He sighed and shifted to carry her. He felt her cling onto him and he was doing he best to not think about the fact he was carrying a naked woman with whom he had affections for. He felt his face heat up as he left the barrier.

Kaya stared in confusion. She stared with all four eyes and sighed heavily. She removed her over coat as she winced, handing it over to him.

“Thanks.” he used it to wrap Eclipse up.

“Of course she was the one to burn the shit out of my arms.” the demoness grumbled, “sooo any ideas?”

“A mask. A dragon mask. I burned it.” He scowled, “she didn’t seem to have any recognition.”

“What did it look like?” she asked with a huff. She looked at Eclipse with a scowl.

“Dark black, had a red ribbon on the back, had gold scales on it with ruby inlaid eyes.” he explained, “it was fused to her face.”

“To my love, may your heart grow fierce until your knight can calm it.” Kaya recited with a sigh and rubbed her neck with a groan, “An engagement mask from the dragon king. How odd. There shouldn’t be one in this realm…” She scowled as her fingers tapped her chin, “there’s no Dragon king in this reality so why would one of his engagement masks be here…” she sighed, “well I’m glad you got it off her. If she had it on too long, she’d have been a dragon forever.”

Snatcher scowled. He smiled softly as she moved some more in his arms. She looked up at him tiredly.

“How you feeling?” he asked.

“Hungry.” she admitted with a frown, “tired… sore… where am I?”

“Near the ruins of Tir-na-Nocht.” he explained, “you were a big dragon.”

“Was I?” she frowned as she shifted how she was in his arms. She squeaked and pulled Kaya’s coat close as she realized she was naked. She groaned and rested against Snatcher, “I don’t remember… I just remember I was in some weird shop and some lady shoved something on my face then it gets blurry. I smelt something really sweet and I just wanted to be near it.”

Snatcher felt his heart race, “O-Oh?”

“It was like… calming. I felt calm so I wanted it. Then I remember pain and I’m just so hungry.” she sighed as she closed her eyes.

“Sho--- OH GODS DAMNIT!” Kaya slapped her face and whined as she hit her own burns, “Red door? Smells HORRIBLE?”

“Yes?” Eclipse turned to look at the demoness who had pulled her phone out and was angrily texting.

“Clockwork Rose” she explained, “I bet you met Belle. She’s finicky like a cat. Says she likes to help people but I swear she makes more messes than not! Stupid interdimensional space witch!” she huffed, “I prefer Briar to her cuz at least Briar only messes with shit in her own territory but nooo Belle makes paperwork EVEYWHEREEE.” she hissed and hit send with a sigh, “Seems you must have been her plaything.

Snatcher froze, “Does she have red hair, like a bright red?” he paled.

“She does.” Kaya admitted, “and eyes that are either green or blue, like gemstones.”

“I-I’ve been in her shop,” he admitted. “She gave me a weird locket! It burnt Eclipse’s hand and made me hear her heartbeat.”

“It made you hear what?!” the woman gasped, red in the face. “I-I remember the locket a few months ago b-but!”

He nodded, “Yeah, it had a weird side effect. I don’t know why.” he sighed.

Kaya frowned as she thought about it and sighed, “let’s go home. I have enough work to do, more so knowing this crosses into spacial law. Damnit I wanted to watch a new episode of Calimari Stage.” she opened a portal and waited for them to enter. She looked back at the fields that were once her home and frowned.

She raised a hand and reached out.

“Kaya?” Snatcher called.

She pulled her hand and looked back. She gave a small smile. She ran towards the portal and shoved them through. Wincing at her burns.

A wisp danced beyond the barrier, giggling before vanishing.

#the little contractor #ahit au #ahit prince #ahit fan character #ahit snatcher #Eclipse Guardian #Prince Arulius #fanart #digital #lines #this was fun!!! interesting but fun!!!#Eclipse's curses are never simple lol she's not as easy to deal with as Ru is #but hey does anyone recognize his armor cuz I've drawn him in it before but as Snatcher for MG

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my-brothers-corrupted · 3 years

Text

Book Four - Part 13

Trick breaks free. Then the real fight begins.

Tws for torture, possession, and blood.

Part 13 - Chase

Anonymous asked: Remember Trick, Chase. In the battle against your own mind, only one person can win. Don't let it, let him, destroy you.

“Here you go, my darling.”

Shifting and whispers in the bed beside him. His eyes slide slowly open, sticky with sleep.

“Nobody will take you away,” Anti is purring to Dapper, clipping tiny cameras to his shirt and the pocket of his pants. “I’ll be watching the three of you all day. Oh, my Trickster’s awake.”

He leans over to kiss Chase’s head, scratching at his scalp. “At least you never cause me any problems. Be good. I’ll be back later.”

“Anti,” croaks Chase, rubbing at his eyes.

“What?”

“I’m really hungry.”

“You eat a lot more than Dapper, you know. But then again, he doesn’t age. He’s low-maintenance. Even the scars tend to fade off him, and he goes all pretty and soft again.” Anti pauses, glancing around the room. “I’ll leave the door unlocked. You can get something from the kitchen. Just don’t let Dapper out.”

“Can’t you bring me something?” asks Trick weakly. “I’m having a down day.”

He can feel it already, his depression getting a tighter and tighter grip on him. He just wants to be taken care of for a little while. Coaxed out of bed and into the shower, brought food and massaged. He knows someone should be here helping him. Knowing what to do. Anti?

“I have to deal with your miserable brothers today,” murmurs Anti, leaning in to nuzzle together once again. “But in a couple weeks, when we’re out of here, I’ll spoil the pair of you all you want and then some. Give master kiss.”

Trick presses his mouth uncertainly to Anti’s cheek, at least soothed a little by the contact, but all too soon Anti is drawing away.

“Have a good day. I love you, Anti.”

He glitches out of view, turning only to flash Trick a smile before he vanishes into color and smoke.

Trick stares after him, numb.

Dapper’s very deeply asleep beside him, face drawn. Anti was talking to him while he wasn’t even awake.

Trick hides beside his brother’s arm and tries to go back to sleep. There’s a faint noise in the edges of his hearing like a faint whimpering, but it scares him too much to think about. He just wants to be unconscious again.

Battle for his mind. Ha. He can’t fight for anything right now.

“Anti’s fucking right,” he whispers. “I am broken.”

Anonymous asked: You will make it through, Chase Brody. You are a survivor through-and-through, and sure you may have had to change for survival a few times, but you are still the strong man with a protective gun in hand, the protagonist enough to lead the story and still be you after all this time. Jack made you for happy endings. And goddamnit you are going to have one, no matter how long the story takes.

Trick glances over at you, eyes dull. He supposes he has survived a lot. But protagonist - he can’t do that. He can’t be that. Right now, all he can do is lie in this bed.

He’s too scared to get up. He’s scared to check Dapper’s pulse and find it fading. Scared to look out his window and feel himself go weak with the confusion and distress from that body on the porch. Scared to see a calendar and know how long he’s been here, here, here, just… rotting.

Just him in this silent room, with moments of Dapper’s company to comfort him, and then silence again. His stomach groans as though to mock him.

“Happy endings,” he whispers, rubbing at his face.

He dreams of that warm smell on a baby’s head and hands pressed into the muscles of his shoulders. Dreams of a soothing mixture of English, German, and BSL to soothe him. Dreams of strawberry shortcake and cats curling up on his lap, of trees with no monsters in them. He would really like that. He would really like a happy ending.

Anonymous asked: Anti hasn't talked about that night because he doesn't actually want to make things better, Trick. He just wants to make you forget everything he's done to you so he never has to apologise. He does it to all of you. He doesn't want to make things better, he just wants to force you to forget, force you to love him. Anti is an abuser. All he will ever do is hurt you worse.

“That night…” mumbles Trick.

He glances down at the deep, ugly burn scar on his hand.

“If I try to go I think he’ll hurt me worse,” Trick whispers, blinking wetly at that old memory in his hand. “I’m scared of him. So angry. He does so many things when he’s angry…”

He hears faint flickers of screams, sees old traces of blood and injuries, watches Dapper’s hands cry for mercy. He curls down tighter against his brother, shuddering.

“I think he will hurt me again,” he croaks out. “You know, I really think he will. I’m scared. I think maybe I wish I could have a little time away? Like Dok and Red and Blue? But then Anti was only more angry. And he makes my head so confused. But you know, I think you’re right. I think maybe he’s always going to be someone who hurts me. I don’t know why we make him so, so angry, but yeah, I think maybe he’s being mean.”

Trick’s eyes well up with tears - and, for a second, a flash of his old ferocity, like the bitter, hurting Trick who crouched against the windowsill in that house near the sea in Norway.

“He makes me do things I don’t want to do and he hurts me and my brothers. Why does he do that? I’m trying to be good. He’s - he’s being a dick. He really is. I think maybe he hurt Dok really really bad.”

Tears begin to drizzle down his cheeks. He turns away from you, panting.

“Fuck him. What the hell? I don’t know what’s so wrong with me, but Dok is sweet. Dapper’s sweet. This is… oh, holy shit, this is all so, so fucked up…”

Anonymous asked: Is it really 'stopping the pain' if it was caused by him in the first place, Trick? Is it really 'stopping the pain' if he's made you forget nearly everything you loved, destroyed and hurt your family, and made you spill the blood of all those innocent lives? Are his lies enough for you?

Trick wipes at his face, feeling pathetic and low.

“He used to stop all the pain,” he says. “And I would float in that haze for days, feeling good, feeling okay, with just these moments where I got the sense that something was totally wrong. Like I was living a life I wasn’t supposed to, cause some god stuck me in the wrong skin or something. But he made it stop hurting. And when we hung out, I’d feel happy and we’d have fun. He’s funny, did you know that? He’s really funny and he can be sweet too. Cause when he’s feeling fond of you, all he wants to do is have you close to him and give you things you want. He glows when you praise him and treat him soft. I thought maybe it was the two of us, right? Like we made each other happy. That’s what I thought.”

He stares out the window at the trees and the golden light of a world that feels miles away.

“But I can’t watch him hurt my brothers anymore,” he whispers. “I don’t think he realizes that that’s what really destroys me. He thinks if he just treats me nice, that’ll be everything I need. Why… why would he lock me away like this? And hurt them like that? Didn’t we do our best? For months now, months and months? Didn’t I love him? All I ever wanted was to make him happy. Now he tells me he has to take me away from the people who make me happy for his sake.

He closes his eyes. A sliver of that faraway sunlight touches him, running over his cheek.

“I don’t think this is going to be enough for me. I can’t stay in this room much longer. And I keep thinking ‘well, surely he won’t make me a prisoner forever’ - and then I look over at him.”

Dapper’s mouth is parted with sleep, his face ashy and hollow. Trick manages to sit up for the first time in more than twelve hours to pull him into his lap and rock him, bent low over his thin little body.

Anonymous asked: Even if it doesn't look like the abuse you've suffered in the past, Anti is emotionally abusing and gaslighting you constantly. The feeling you have that you don't understand anything that's going on and don't know the truth? That's caused by the level of gaslighting you're going through. Being less confident, not feeling like the person you used to be, like everything you do is wrong, making excuses for him, isolation from your family, denying actions you /saw/ him do. It's gaslighting. Abuse.

“Denying actions I saw him do?”

Trick stares out the window, picking at his lip. Pick, pick, picking at his mouth until the blood seeps against his fingernails.

He sighs and shrugs his shoulders, shaking his head like he’s trying to throw the thoughts off. After a few minutes, his discomfort overcomes his exhaustion and he gets up to use the bathroom, leaving Dapper gently propped up against the pillows like a time-traveling Sleeping Beauty.

Trick comes back paler than he was before and sits down hard on the side of the bed, eyes glazed over.

“Anti chained Red and Dapper in the bathtub for a whole night cause they tried to sneak him his Haldol. That’s why Dapper’s arm is busted. Then he told me he’d kill Dok in our sleep if I didn’t take off his necklaces.”

Anonymous asked: When an abuser constantly insists that they love you, your mind learns to rationalize that any abuse is excusable because "they must love me!" in order to keep mental pain at bay. You learn to rationalize that abuse and love can ever co-exist for the sake of your own heart. But the abuser does not love you. Love and abuse cannot co-exist. 'Family' or not, Anti is an abuser, Trick. A violent, physical one. Eventually youll have to choose between real love, & an endless cycle of excusing abuse.

“No, oh, no,” whispers Trick, grabbing at his head. It hurts! There is a wound opening up inside his head, a mallet pounding down against something deeply sealed, a fire burning at his memories. “No, we did love each other. He’s being so horrible, but he… loves us. No, he doesn’t. He loves me? How could he treat me so well when things are good if he doesn’t? He wants to keep me. He loves me.”

But this cycle - this cycle!

He hears a girl laughing. She smells like good cooking and library books. He’s the one making her laugh and it lights his chest up. He presses his mouth to the soft skin of her cheek and she smiles and touches his hand. They say goodbye. Anti slaps him so hard he crashes to the ground. He hears Blue screaming for him to stop, but Anti doesn’t listen. Trick forgot by the next morning.

Trick clutches his head. His fingers intertwine with green hair. “No, no, no. What is he making me forget? He’s - what - what is he trying to turn me into? Please, please get him for me, tell him I need him to clear my head. No - no, but he makes me forget, or - or these are just nightmares. These aren’t real. These are just… just…”

Anonymous asked: It wasn't a nightmare. Don't let him control your head. Don't let him win, Trick. He's been hypnotising you, in your head nearly every single day. Don't you remember when you hated it? When you would cry every time someone was possessed, when him being in your head nearly caused you to kill yourself? Anti doesn't "make the pain stop", he just erases it, destroys it, destroys your sense of self and your freedom over your own mind.

“No, come on,” begs Trick, shaking his head, feeling himself beginning to shake. He needs to lie back down again. He hides under the covers, still holding his skull. “No, that’s not true. I don’t want it to be true. I’m scared. I can’t fight him if he’s really like that. He’s going to hurt me and my family. What do I do? Oh, no, no! He’ll get in my head again - I’m going to forget again and just keep letting him hurt us! Dapper - Dapper’s been stuck in one room for months and months, I have to - I can’t protect anyone, no, he’ll make me forget. He controls me. He’s right, I’m just a fucking puppet. I don’t control my own thoughts anymore…”

Anonymous asked: I'm curious about something, Trick. I'm not even sure if you still remember but there was a girl who Anti captured who you guarded and were told to kill when you all left the area... but you didn't, and you let her go instead. Did she say something to you? What made you directly disobey Anti that day?

Trick looks up at you, astonished. He bites down on his nail, turning away.

“You’re right… shit, what happened?”

Flowers and plants bursting from the earth. Blue’s eyes full of despair moments before glazing over with Anti’s shadow. In the shed, the girl looked back at him, her eyes raised.

“I think she said she wanted to go home to her family,” says Trick. “Or did I imagine that? That she said she had a family to go home to, a family that was looking for her and scared for her? She was all covered up in cuts. Anti used to make Dok do that to people. It was terrible. He would go so wild as he tortured them, just like Anti wanted, but then afterwards he would just shake and shake and shake for days in silence, stuck as deep in his own head as he put his scalpel into Anti’s prisoners. One time, he became convinced there was some sort of infection inside himself that he needed to cut out. I found him in the bathroom, completely delusional, completely incoherent, his scalpel stuck inside his thigh, splurting blood everywhere. I don’t think Anti even said anything about it… Dok cut up someone else that next day. It was always cruel, the torture. For Dok, for his victims. I remember that girl all covered in Dapper’s cuts.

“And I guess I thought I could get away with it. We were all leaving, so why not leave her? But then she brought the magicians. It was my fault she took Dok away.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, head aching.

“And Anti kicked Dap, didn’t he?” he asks faintly. “Maybe I was just angry at him. Like the fire. I didn’t set the fire for Dok, I just wanted to tick Anti off. I don’t know if I left the girl alive because I felt sorry for her or because I wanted to tick Anti off. I think sometimes I do. I think sometimes I want to get him back for all the things he’s done to us.”

As the memories come back to him, so too do the feelings, and with the feelings, a glimpse of reality.

Anonymous asked: Henrik, you can gift your necklaces to other people right? What if you gifted the protection over heart and head to Trick? That might be the only way to keep Anti out of him. I don't think he can fully fight it alone.

Blue eyes slide open on the porch.

Crusted and red. Bloodied on one side.

Henrik’s mouth barely parts. He tilts his head back, trying to readjust, and barbed wire pokes into his cheek, sending blood down his lips, tracing the pale outline of his mouth.

His necklaces hang off his throat. His last, solitary comfort and protection. You want them for his brother?

You must ask someone still standing to be selfless. He can’t care for anyone right now and he’s done his share of the sacrifice. Will you see to it that he is buried by the Chevra Kadisha after Anti kills him? It is his last request. His eyes have gone faraway from you, the pupils shrunk, and he stares at you like a hawk who can see the whole world beneath its endless gaze.

Anonymous asked: Who was it that said the line ‘anti tortured my brothers and made them thank him for it’ ? Cos I think u need to remember that one rn

“I guess he did,” answers Trick faintly. “He’s cruel on purpose. It’s not… it’s not his temper. He thinks it’s funny.”

aether-mae asked: Trick, as much as I love seeing you remember the truth, it’s all for naught if you don’t have a way to get free from Anti. We’ve brought you out of your hazes before only for him to drag you right back in. If you can reach enough clarity, please, please, get the fuck away from him (and bring dapper with you), otherwise we’ll be back to square one again

Trick’s eyes flicker. He looks over at Dapper, chewing on his nails.

“Can’t get out of the house with all the cameras,” he murmurs. “Can I? But I’m allowed go downstairs a little. He’s not, but I am. I don’t know how I could… can’t Red and Blue just come get me, please?”

aether-mae asked: Uhh noodle poodle, come back here please. There’s Dark things in the woods. Hopefully they like kittens..

You hear Trick gasp so hard it’s almost a scream.

“Holy shit!” he sobs. “My cat! Where is my cat, oh no, no, no!”

He scrambles to the door, pulling it open. Panting, he stands outside the room and clicks and kisses for his cat, calling for him like he always does. But Noodle doesn’t come running.

“He’s in the woods?” cries Trick. “My kitten is in the woods? Did Anti hurt him? Is he alive? Noodle! Come here, baby, daddy’s here! Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. I’m going to throw up. My cat, my baby.”

Anonymous asked: There was also a boy once, Trick. A kid you ran into when you robbed the pharmacy. I know you ran to avoid getting caught but I think partially it was because the name he had was familiar to you, in the same way your crinkle paper is familiar to you. No matter how Anti tries to shut your memories away, certain things always seem to linger.

Trick whimpers, shaking his head. Yes, he remembers. It hurt for a long time. It hurt for a long time even before that happened, before he even had that one name to cling to. There has always been a hole in his heart, for as long as he can remember.

But then he had his cat!

Having something to care for soothed him more than was probably healthy. He’s lost hope that he’ll see his children again, but his cat -

“I have to get my cat,” he cries. “I have to get away from Anti or he’ll leave my cat behind to die.”

And, on shaking legs, he begins his way down those great stairs, calling for Pot Noodle.

Anonymous asked: Anti took your children from you. Anti took your family from you, all of your friends, your life, your happiness. He took it all and filled your brain with false joy and lies all to make you a mimicry of Jack that he can pretend to control. Break free from him, Trick. Protect your real family.

The house is in ruins.

He doesn’t know when or how it happened. Struggles between Anti and his brothers, maybe, or just Anti himself lashing out. Maybe even Noodle caused some of the damage, in those first days where he was waiting for Chase to get out of the upstairs room and look after him. Some of it is just neglect.

The plant by the entryway door has fallen to its side and broken, the dirt spilling out across the filthy hardwood floors. A light is smashed above it and Trick can smell something like rot and spoiled milk in the air. There’s blood on the coat hanger.

Trick passes his hand over the wall, stepping through his broken home.

Here’s Red and Blue’s room. He remembers curling up with Red on the nights when Dok and Blue were both taken away from them. The room was cool and clean, Red meticulous in his organization and precise in his temperature control. They took what little comforts they could when they could hear their twins crying out from upstairs. Today, the room is in ruins. The sheets are torn off the bed and someone has been scratching at the door, leaving nail marks in the side, one hinge busted entirely. The drawers have been ripped open and the lamp is on its side, broken like it was used as a battering ram.

This home was so beautiful when they moved in, or Trick thought it was. And after everything that happened, he thought that maybe, just maybe, they would have a few months of peace and quiet, warm with the California sun and the love between them. It should have been idyllic.

He’s living in a fucking nightmare.

The basement is surprisingly clean, though Noodle’s sand box is full and his empty dishes have been pushed around and flipped in frustration by a hungry cat. But his and Dok’s bed is still untouched.

They would lie together. He would tell Dok about Anti. Dok would tell him about comfort and freedom and the future he wanted. Trick had barely even been able to listen at the time, ensnared in Anti’s power and his own self-delusions.

He puts his hand down on the mattress. His eyes water and spill over.

This was real family.

Anonymous asked: you were his nurse, trick. you were more than that. you loved him more than anti. you loved dok more than anyone. anti is torturing him, your real twin. anti is trying to force you to forget how much you loved him so that you'll be complacent. don't sit down and take it. fight for your family trick. see how horrible anti has treated you all for years and fight it with all your might.

“Dok was my twin,” he croaks out.

They would hold each other through the worst nights, whispering reassurances and secret sedition to each other, taking care of each other on their down days, days of blood and an exhaustion so deep as to eat holes in you. Dok - Henrik - was everything to him, when he had no one else to turn to. How did he ever forget, even for a hazy moment?

“Dok is my family. Anyone who hurts him like this does not belong. Dok is my family and I have to protect him.”

He holds his head up, breathing deep and closing his eyes.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

Anonymous asked: Red, Blue, and Henrik have done it and you can do, Trick. I feel like this is a truth you always knew. Anti is a snake in the rabbit's den. Anti is a falsity haphazardly placed inside the truth of your brotherhood. Anti does not love you, even if he seems 'fond' whenever you're under his control. He doesn't love you, he wants to control you.

Trick runs his hand through his hair, trying to think. “You’re right,” he murmurs. “And soon, he’ll come back and put me under his control again. I’ll be all confused and listless again, forgetting everything that matters so I can be his. I - I have to act right now. Right now, today. Before he tries to destroy me again.”

Anonymous asked: (1) Anti needs you to believe you'd be nothing without him. He needs you all to believe he is in charge and he is special and free from the rules because it fits his world view, where he's the all-powerful, in charge of everything. But you're not truly under his control. Trick, Dapper, Red, any of you, can be free at any time if you stop conforming to Anti's self-imposed world view. Anti treats you like a means to an end, you're only with him to satisfy his needs, to be the person he wants.

“He can force me to believe what he wants,” says Trick, treading back up the stairs. He’s so hungry he can barely think straight, so he’s decided to do what Dok would want him to do and try to find some breakfast while he thinks. “I need help to keep him out of my head, that’s the truth of it. In Singapore, Blue was the only anchor I had who kept me from getting completely lost in his power. Dapper will help me if he’s up to it, I know that now. I’ll get him some food too. I have to figure out what to do. I have to…”

He stares around himself at the prison of his home. The kitchen is absolutely wrecked, the fridge door left open so everything has gone bad. The stench of meat makes him gag. He grabs a tray of stale muffins and fills up a big water bottle before heading back towards his room, sitting shakily down on the bed.

“Need to get out of the house,” he whispers, his eyes flickering around to the cameras in the room. “Need to stop Dok from being his hostage. But he’s always watching. I have to distract him somehow. Or be very, very quick.”

Anonymous asked: Anti said he'll finish Henrik off if Red or Blue even try coming close to the house. You can't rely solely on their help to get you out.

Trick curls in on himself a little, his anxiety spiking.

“That’s why they haven’t come to get me. They can’t even get close. They… they can’t help me at all while Dok’s on the porch. I have to go get him. But I don’t know how. Dap - maybe Dap can reverse something for me when he gets up. Then I could try a couple times over and figure out what works. I’d feel so much safer. I’m pretty scared. Anti’s really going to beat me if he finds out. He’s focused on Dok right now, right? Not reading messages or anything? I think he’s been hunting Red and Blue in the forest.”

He rubs at his face and takes a big bite of his muffin, his mouth flooding with saliva at the relief of having food again. They finished off Dapper’s snacks early yesterday. Trick was getting about ready to try that rotted cheese he had in the drawers. He chugs half the water bottle and touches Dapper’s shoulder, trying to wake him.

“Hey, little man. Let’s see if we can’t get some food in your tummy, yeah? Dap, here I am.”

Anonymous asked: cracked screen cracked screen cracked screen-

For context, the moderator had, at this point, changed the blog icon from a square of glitches to a square of glitches with cracks through it, like a broken phone screen.

“Is it cracked?”

Trick peers at his camcorder, finding the lens intact.

“Looks okay from my side of things, but there’s a lot of different cameras in this house.”

He feels movement in the bed beside him and turns to see Dapper squinting at him, blinking as he comes back to consciousness.

“That is some truly fantastic bedhead, my man.”

Dapper manages a faint smile for him.

“There’s my guy. Come on, bud, let’s get you sitting up and get you some water.”

He pulls Dapper up against the headboard, propping his pillows up behind him. “How are you feeling?”

“Little better,” answers Dapper.

“Here, have some water. Is that true that you don’t eat as much cause you don’t age?”

“I think so,” his brother says. “But I can’t be sure. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten much. Just survive off what Anti brings me. But I’m okay.”

“We’ll get you some food and clean up your bandages.”

Anonymous asked: Jackie, Blue, if you could get to the house and provide a distraction, Trick is willing to jailbreak him, Dap, and Dok. Is that a possibility?

Blue sits up straight from where he was slouching in the lawn outside one of Dark’s houses, eyes lighting up.

“Yes, of course,” he breathes. “Whatever he needs. He’s really willing to go? I told you he was my little fighter, Ro! Let’s go now and we’ll get in a fight with Anti. I can light him up with my magic back.”

Jackie shifts against the tree he’s leaning on, more skeptical than his sibling. “I don’t know. They’re going to get hurt. If Anti catches them, we’ll have three brothers strung up on that porch. And I don’t think Dapper can take that right now.”

“First of all, have some faith in them,” says Blue, pinching Jackie’s wrist. “They’re tougher than you like to admit and they’ve been through a lot of dangerous situations and come out the other side. Secondly, we don’t have much choice here, my darling. We can’t get past Anti while he has a hostage. He’s willing to kill and the cameras are activated. We need Trick to get Dok to safety.”

“How the hell is he going to get out of that house?” asks Jackie, shaking his head. “Carrying Dok and supporting Dap? I don’t think he could get out if he were on his own. Anti will have his eyes on the cameras even while he’s fighting us.”

“Then Trick will have to be fast,” says Blue, getting to his feet. “And you and I will have to be very distracting.”

A smile curls onto Jackie’s face despite his trepidation.

“Well that,” he says, “I think we can do.”

Anonymous asked: Jackie if you know you can handle the backlash, then maybe taunting Anti about being not afraid, talking about beating him to essence in front of Jack, and being stronger than him, etc, has seemed to definitely do the job in the past.

Jackie starts laughing even as he shifts his weight from foot to foot and rocks on his heels. Blue watches him carefully to see if he’s getting overwhelmed, but he has it together.

“Oh, he’d be so mad.” Jackie rubs at his hair. “But… I guess that’s true, right? I beat him before. I did. We did! He should be scared. He can’t treat my family like this. We’ll go get him.”

He turns to smile at Blue. “Yeah. We’ll get him.”

Anonymous asked: Could Shep or Google sneak in and help Trick get the others out while you two distract Anti?

A window opens in the house above them.

“This isn’t a fucking crossover episode!” shouts Host. “Use your own characters! There’s a such thing as narrative integrity and I will not watch as it is - ”

“Gigi!” calls Blue. “You want to come help us with our brothers?”

Gigi appears in the doorway, letting Moses out of the house. “Sorry, not allowed. Dark doesn’t want me involved.”

“Come on, don’t be a sycophant,” says Blue, flashing Gigi a look that makes Ro roll his eyes. “You know, I think we could have some fun, Gigi. You don’t have to listen to Dark. We might really have a good time.”

Google shakes his head. “I’m good right here, thanks.”

“You like being Dark’s, Gigi?”

Google gazes at him, then across at Dark’s house, where Wilford is chasing the dog around the yard. The peach tree outside the house offers leaves to the wind, pink fruit bursting on its branches. Birds cascade around the roof and windows. The breeze stirs his hair.

“I’m good right here,” he says again, and you think you see, just for a moment, the flicker of a smile on his mouth.

“Well, what about Shep?” asks Blue, glancing around for him. “Host, where is he?”

“Out looking for that cat again,” answers Host. “I recommended he put some meat in a carrier and see what he catches. My bet is on possum, but I would also accept bear cub or porcupine.”

Anonymous asked: Shep? ...Did you ever find Noodle?

“Guess not,” sighs Blue. “Trick’s going to be broken-hearted if we don’t find that cat.”

“He’s been out alone in the forest for days now,” says Ro. “He’s a house-cat, never lived out on his own. Most likely he’s dead.”

“Ro,” snaps Blue, and then remembers to soften his voice. “Sorry, just - a little too blunt, love.”

“Sorry. Yeah, uh, we’ll find him! Somewhere.”

scunneredzombie asked: Trick, if your oldest brothers create a distraction would you run? Can you get away in the middle of a fight, if that breaks out? Blue has faith in you!

“I wish Blue was here,” says Trick quietly, staring out the window. “He’d make everything better. He always does.”

Anti was the one who made him sick… the memory of his body in the hospital feels suddenly overwhelming… Trick bows his head and sighs, clutching his shirt and wringing it between his hands.

“Run away in the middle of a fight,” he mumbles. “Away from Anti. I don’t know. I’m…”

Scared.

“Maybe that’s why he likes me so much,” he says. “Cause he knows I don’t have the guts to stand up to him. I always come back all warm to him. No matter what he does. Even in Norway, before he messed with my head like he has been lately, I was so hungry for any affection for him. Now I still can’t seem to run away. I’m sorry, I don’t - I don’t think I can do this.”

Warm fingers cup his chin. He turns and finds Dapper looking at him, smiling. His little brother’s fingers move back to stroke against the hairs at the nap of his neck and Trick relaxes wearily, eyes sliding shut. He takes a deep breath. Dapper tugs gently at his hair and he opens his eyes to see him again.

“Can I tell you something?” he signs.

“Course, man.”

“When Anti caught you and Henrik, Red and I were both lost deep in his power. He had treated us very badly for a while, but as we came around and became more and more willing to do what he asked us to do - to be what he asked us to be - he started to become warm and loving with us. Our missions felt like adventures back then. Even the killing was satisfying. Red was having breakdowns most every night without ever being able to tell me why, but in the daytime, he and I were Anti’s monsters. In Italy and Denmark, we killed and stole like we were born to do it.

“You and Dok changed things. Anti was obsessed with Dok’s savagery as a torturer for some time, but as he watched it begin to destroy him, he got bored again. And you - ”

“Were always his little yellow-belly,” chuckles Trick. “He didn’t have any interest in me back then.”

“No,” protests Dapper, touching his chin again. “No, that’s not true. You only remember after he reset you. But Trick, you lasted longer than Dok and Red had before you lost the fight to Anti. You fought so hard, Trick. Fought him every step of the way. I think that was the first time I began to get my memories of who we had been back. Because you fight, Trick. You fight when you need to. That’s one of those things that Anti can’t take from you. And I think that’s one of the reasons he gets caught up in this fascination with you. Anti only respects power and ability. To him, you should be helpless, hopeless, lost all the time - a human being with no magic and a lot of pain going on in your head. But you still keep fighting. He can’t understand why. Why mortal things, despite all the suffering and weakness they have to go through, still find things in life worth fighting for.”

Trick stares at him, clinging to his words.

“Now, Trick, Chase, my brother - if you want, you and I can go with Anti. Maybe we could even convince Anti that Dark is right, and he shouldn’t kill the others. Maybe Anti could even make us feel happy for a while. If that’s what you want, you and I can go. I’ll stay with you. We’ll be family. And I think we could survive it.”

Dapper leans forward and lets their foreheads thunk together, just for a second.

“But that’s not what you want, is it?”

Trick shakes his head slowly, tears dripping down his face.

“Because that’s not who you are.”

Trick shakes his head again. No. That’s not who he is. That’s not what he wants.

“Trick, I’m too sick to help reverse things right now. I’m sorry. And I know you’re tired too, and I know you’re scared. But Chase… your favorite person in the world is down there, hurt and alone, while Anti plans to kill him. He can’t stay there, not for another minute if we can help it. Right?”

“Right,” he whispers.

“So what are we going to do?”

Trick reaches up to hug him. For a minute, they just hold each other. Eyes closed. Hearts together.

“Dap, I’m not a fighter like you think I am,” whispers Trick. “I want to, I just - I know I can’t. I know I can’t do this.”

“Why? What’s going on? Did something happen?”

“Because - ”

His voice breaks. He draws back with tears in his eyes, holding on to his little brother.

“Dapper, I still love him. I still love Anti.”

“Oh, my brother.”

Dapper reaches out to cup his face in his hands.

“I do too. But we don’t have to stop loving him. We just have to look at him, and see what he truly is, beneath the idea of him we fell for - and then choose to love ourselves more.”

“What if he needs me?” whispers Trick. “What if I’m the only one who could save him from himself?”

“Dok needs you more,” says Dapper, and he presses his hand to Trick’s heart. “And today, you really are the only one who can save your twin.”

Anonymous asked: To Trick (and all who need to hear): Healing from pain is a choice, and it is up to you to consciously /decide/ that you deserve to move on from the weight and hurt you've dealt with for so long. Because you do. You deserve hope and love and freedom. But you have to choose it for yourself.

“You don’t deserve to be hurt for his sake when he doesn’t even want to be saved,” signs JJ, the pair of them sitting side-by-side in their monster’s bed. “They’re right and they always have been, even when you were too lost to realize. You deserve - we deserve - to be free and safe and cared for, Chase. So what are you choosing, my brother?”

“Hey,” whispers Trick.

“Yeah?”

“You’re really good at giving speeches.”

He gets to watch Dapper’s tired face light up with laughter. It makes him smile too. A moment later, they are locked against each other, giggling and rocking each other on the bed, faces squished together.

“You have to choose with me, then,” says Trick. “I know how long you’ve been scared and alone. You got to choose to fight with us today.”

Dapper wipes at tears on his face, hugging him tighter. He doesn’t want to let go just yet.

Anonymous asked: Dapper is right. Trick it takes a looong feckin time to stop loving people who've abused you. It takes even longer to love yourself again. But it's a choice you are capable of making. Choose to love your family, love yourself, more than you love the monster amongst you. Anti is a calloused, cold abuser who delights in pain and cruelty. No amount of love will save him from himself. Go and be with the people who loved Chase before you ever had to be Trick to survive.

“You and the others are the only hope that I have held onto for long years now,” signs Dapper, stuck fast to him. “If you’re ready, then I am too. I’m not sure I can do much, but what I can, I will.”

“Okay, then - then me too, me too,” whispers Trick, wrapping him up again. “Me too. Okay, I’m stuttering like fuck, haha. You gotta give me a minute. Just to breathe. Then - then I’m ready. Okay.”

“You should change out of your pjs, maybe,” Dapper recommends.

“Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Alright, shit. Do you have everything you need if I go get him?”

“I’m okay. I want you to worry about Dok first.”

“No way, you’re just as important as he is.”

“Thank you, but Dok’s in a lot more danger than I am with Anti. Anti won’t kill me, I’m fairly sure. If it comes down to it, get him to safety first and worry about me later.”

“No, I won’t do that.”

“We’ll see what happens, alright? Now go get ready, quickly. I’m sure big brother will be here soon to make a mess and cause problems.”

“His specialties.”

Trick hugs him one more time before getting out of bed, leaving you beside Dapper as he goes to change.

Anonymous asked: Good luck!!!

Chase gives a small laugh.

It seems almost too little, but almost too much: good luck. He needs it more than he knows how to express.

But he is also the gunman, the guard dog, the father, the nurse. He is a fighter and a softie too. He needs luck. He needs hope. He needs courage. He will find them.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

He’s wearing one of Jamie’s blue hoodies, basketball shorts, and worn, well-kept, fading Converse. He has no weapons and no magic.

For the first time in days, he dares to search for his twin’s body outside his window. He can see very little of him from this angle, but he knows him nonetheless. So fucking still. Why is the deck red beneath his unmoving hands?

“Go,” signs Jamie. “Look, in the woods.”

In the woods, movement. Anti appears from the air in front of the trees, eyes narrowed.

“I know you’re there!” they hear him shout from far away. “I can see both of you with the cameras I have in the trees! You’ll never get close to him before I can transport back and stop you! Neither of you will get out of my gaze.”

“He is watching for Red and Blue, as long as they keep him distracted,” signs JJ. “He knows all the magic and help they have. They will not be able to get to Dok on their own. Go, while he is so focused on them he feels safe.”

Trick hugs him one more time before moving towards the door.

“I’ll come back for you,” he vows. “Nobody’s getting left behind this time.”

“Please don’t worry about me.”

“No, Dapper - ”

He turns back to him and takes his face in his hands, drawing his gaze up.

“Don’t give up,” he says softly. “No resigning yourself to anything. Today, you find some hope, okay?”

Dapper bites his mouth. He nods, just once.

“I will come back for you and you will be ready to go. Okay?”

“Okay. Okay. Yes.”

They pull away. Chase goes.

JJ stares after him for a long time, hands clenched.

Then he gets up and he gets dressed.

It feels very similar to stepping back from the edge of a cliff in Lima.

Anonymous asked: Speak of the devil, where is Anti anyway?

“Speak of the devil indeed!” calls Blue through the trees. “Who’s the guard dog now, bitch boy?”

Anti turns his head towards him, snarling, but Blue vanishes behind a wall of ivy. A rock thwacks into the side of Anti’s head and he yells, touching a patch of blood on his skull and then making it glitch out of existence once more.

“How long can you keep that up, do you think?” asks Red, taking aim once again from a slingshot borrowed from the twins. “Can you glitch all day? Or is it like after you stole Blue’s magic, where you got fucking exhausted and crawled away from the battle half-draped across Trick’s shoulders?”

“You’d be tired too if you fought off half a legion of magicians single-handedly,” spits back Anti, and despite the irritation they’re bringing him, there is some wild light coming back to his eyes, a light you have not seen since Jack was still filming videos of him. “I think I can handle one magician and his useless brother just fine.”

Jackie leaps out of the underbrush, swinging his staff and hollering a battle cry, and Anti lunges forward to meet him. A wolf closes its teeth around the staff, shoving him to the ground; fire lights up the wolf’s fur and makes it screech; Anti rolls away again to find Jackie slinking back - goddammit! These fucking annoyances. Fuck, fuck, but he’s glad to be trying to kill them again. There are hot tears in his eyes. He hates them. He will tear them apart like he always wanted.

He follows them farther into the woods, his cameras lighting up in the trees. As long as he has eyes on them, no one will take the ones who still belong to him.

Anonymous asked: Help is coming, Henrik. Your twin remembers you. We're going to get you out of here.

Those blue eyes slide open again.

He doesn’t know what relief feels like anymore.

But he still has that raven on his breast.

He will die his own man.

His eyes slide shut again.

Anonymous asked: Just hang in there a little longer Henrik. Everything will be okay

“Dok,” whispers a soft voice. “Dok. Deutsch. Henrik.”

He has been whittled down to his own faint breathing; it is the only sound or sensation still existing in his chest. In - out. Slower. In.

Out.

In.

Breathe.

“Dok, I’m here. I’m here.”

Warm hands on the side of his face, caressing him, holding him, around the bloodied barbs of the wire. One on the right is close to piercing his eye. He has been trying for days to stop it from getting too close. Now he can no longer feel it. Perhaps it has already blinded him. He can see very little.

“What happened to you, what happened? I’m here. Dok, I was wrong. I couldn’t see him. I’m sorry. I’m here now. We can go. We can go home.”

He has no words left.

“I’ll get you out. Quick, before Anti checks on you. Here I am.”

Chase.

Anonymous asked: You've got this Chase, go quiet, go fast! Be careful of his injuries, Anti has been torturing Henrik for a long while.

Chase grabs at his hair, tears wet in his eyes, and he curses himself for being a crybaby and a sycophant and a coward.

“I’m here now!” he repeats, almost screaming it, and you see him leap to his feet and turn towards the yard, picking up the shovel that Red was using last week when he decided to dig holes in the lawn to trip Dark’s soldiers. Trick turns back to his twin and stalks back onto the porch, drawing the shovel back like a spear. He thrusts it down with keen accuracy and slams the sturdy metal against the thin dog chain lanced around Henrik’s throat. Again and again, he brings that shovel down, finding the weak chain and snapping - snapping - snapping free!

He kicks the end of the chain off him, panting. He sinks back down to his knees, holding his brother again. Trick lets the barbed wire cut into his arms. It doesn’t matter anymore.

“Dok, hey, are you awake, even? Say something to me. Ich bin hier. I won’t leave again, not ever. Maybe you can’t talk right now. Sometimes you get like that. I don’t mind. I never minded. We take care of each other, right? Remember how you used to stay up with me so, so late and rub my shoulders just so I could relax? I was so scared of Anti finding that I hadn’t guarded all night I would stay awake for days at a time. You were my only comfort. I’m here.”

Fingers flicker against his waist. He touches his head against Dok’s, beginning to try and peel the barbed wire off him, but fuck, fuck! Every barb has to come out one at a time, slow and delicate, and he knows he’s hurting his brother from the way he starts to tremble beneath him. Trick’s fingers too are being cut open by the barbs, because it takes real force to begin unraveling these thick bindings, stronger even, perhaps, than the chain. He won’t be able to get this all off in an hour, let alone five minutes.

“I should have stopped this from happening,” sobs Trick, rocking him. “They’re right. Anti’s been torturing you for ages, especially since we came to this house. And I just waited for him to stop being angry. That’s all I did. I should have stopped him. He wanted to make sure you were punished just for trying to live your life without him. Is this the price he asks for? Look at you, my poor Deutsch…”

Wounds beneath the wire. Wounds and bruises beneath the wire. His left hand is swollen immovably, blue and black and red. He has been cut to pieces. Trick has looked at him for only a moment and found a half-dozen injuries.

“What do I do with you, Henrik? Tell me what to do. Come on, you were always the smart one. I won’t leave, okay? Even if he comes back and kills us both. I’m never leaving you again.”

Anonymous asked: Hey Dok? I don't know if you have a camera about you, but... Do you think it would ever be possible to give Trickshot the necklace that protects your head and heart? I don't know if he could ever be fully safe without that magical help. He's deep in the fire, man.

“No, let him keep them,” croaks Trick, stroking Dok’s hair. “They’re for him. They were presents for him. To protect them. You keep ‘em, Dok. I’m sorry I tried to take them from you. I thought I was keeping you safe, but there are more important things than surviving. You didn’t want him back in your head again. He never will be again. I swear.”

He clutches the two ravens on his brother’s heart. Today, the birds do not burn him.

Anonymous asked: Get Henrik and JJ out of there, Chase. The only place you can be safe is far away from him, otherwise there's a chance he'll get into your head again.

“If I carry him they will dig into his body even more.” Trick looks around for help, but he knows none is coming. “I need pliers or something, but where would I get them? Anti locked up everything that Dapper or I could hurt ourselves with. Shovel won’t work. I’ll just - I’ll just have to start pulling them out and hope I can tug him out or something soon. Right? What else do we have? What else can I do?”

Henrik’s tired red fingers rest over Trick’s, still pressed against the necklaces. Trick clings to him, hearing a rough sigh of relief press out of him. It is the only sign of life Henrik has given him other than his breathing. Their hands rest together.

aether-mae asked: Every day I wake up and pray this story isn’t a Shakespearean-esc tragedy. These boys are going to make it. They have to

“Right,” mumbles Trick. “We have to, we…”

Their hands rest together on the birds. He looks at Dok and sees blue eyes slide open.

They hold on to each other.

“You trust me?” whispers Trick.

Dok breathes.

In.

Out.

His body, stiff and aching, relaxes against his brother’s body. His eyes slip closed again, unafraid.

Yes. Of course.

Here they are.

Trick snaps the string of Dok’s second necklace.

Anonymous asked: You guys have been so distant lately. I'm happy for him to have you back Chase, even if just for the moment right now. Also, does JJ still have his lock picking set from Max? Maybe you could break into wherever Anti locked things away.

JJ is standing in the window of the room upstairs, throwing his shoes at the camera above the porch, trying to knock it down.

“I threw the lock pick off the side of a cliff, unfortunately,” he signs. “I was not very future-oriented at the time.”

He has run out of his own shoes. He heads to the closet to get the shoes of the man who used to live here, the man he killed, but when he runs back to the window with his arms full of dress shoes, his brothers are gone.

“Oh, I think he got him,” he says. “He really did move fast. Damn, maybe we should break into Anti’s things though. I’d really like to have some knives.”

Yelling and fighting in the forest outside, and then Anti’s shriek of anger.

Dapper stares out the window, head tilted up, trying to catch sight of someone. Anti flashes back to the porch, shouting threats, but Dok is already gone.

“No fucking way they got to him, I had my eyes on them,” he snarls.

He looks straight up at Dapper. Dapper backs away from the window and goes to hide in the closet. Trick bursts into the room about halfway through and they smack right into each other, skulls slamming together.

“Owwww,” groans Trick, clutching at his stomach.

“Trick! Watch it! Come here, he’s coming!”

Dapper grabs his brother and they slide into the closet, closing the door behind them and hunkering down beneath coats and shirts, hands clutched together.

“Where did he go?”

Anti is stalking around the house, his mouth full of poison and vitriol.

“What the fuck did you do? Who else is here? Dark, if this is you or any of your soldiers, I swear to hell I’ll kill the lot of you!”

They hear Anti shove the bedroom door open, snarling like an animal. He tears the room apart, doors slamming and furniture crashing to the floor. When he finds nothing, he turns towards the closet.

“Where is Dok?” asks Dapper. “Did you - ”

Anti forces his way inside, grabbing them both by the hair.

“Where the hell is he?”

“We don’t know, we don’t know!” cries Trick. “Ow, Anti, ow! He’s not here!”

“If I find out either of you had anything to do with this I’ll feed you to each other!” shouts Anti, throwing them back to the ground. Dapper grabs onto Trick’s shoulder and they press back against the wall, panting.

Anti pauses at the door, eyes flickering.

“What’s that smell?” he demands.

Trick and Dapper exchange glances.

“Moths?” signs Dapper weakly.

Anti stares around the closet, eyes narrow.

“If you catch sight of Dok, tell the cameras,” he says, turning to stalk away.

Trick slumps back against the wall, one hand over his mouth, one hand over his stomach. Dapper pulls him into a hug and they both try to calm down.

Anonymous asked: Is something wrong with your stomach, Chase?

“No, nothing’s wrong, thanks, I, uh - ”

“What are you holding?” asks Dapper, pushing at his hands. “Let me see.”

“No, JJ, stop being a little shit,” scowls Trick, pushing him back, before the sentence has left his mouth, Dapper has stopped still, staring at him.

“What?”

“JJ?” he signs.

“JJ? What’s JJ mean?”

“You just called me JJ.”

Chase blinks, hands loosening on his stomach. “Oh. Dapper, I meant. What’s JJ?”

Jameson looks away, mouth turning down.

“Is that… you? Is that your secret name?”

He’s looking back at him like he might reply when there’s movement in his hoodie. Chase clasps his hands over his tummy again, but too late.

The little white and grey head of a sleepy-looking rat pokes out of the side of Trick’s hoodie pocket.

“Oh,” breathes Dapper. “A baby!”

Trick looks desperately up at Dapper and sees nothing but delight in his eyes. He relaxes a little, letting out another long, shaky breath.

“It’s an important baby. We have to keep it safe.”

“Can I have it?” begs Dapper, cupping his hands.

“No, no,” says Trick hurriedly, holding his hands around the rat, stroking its white head with his thumb. “Gotta let him rest and hide, okay?”

“Little baby… what a pretty fancy rat. It looks kind of sick though. Will we keep him?”

“We’ll worry about that later, okay?”

“Cutie. I’m in love. Oh, don’t let Anti see, he’ll kill a little mouse.”

Anonymous asked: How goes the fight, Jackie & Blue? Anti seems utterly pissed

“Tell my brothers to get out of the house!” he calls. “We’re leaving today and we’re not coming back.”

Anti screams and glitches towards Jackie in a flash, but Jackie rolls away and Blue is there a moment later, intercepting Anti’s attack with fire and plant life, guarding his older brother.

“Feeling a little useless, I admit,” pants Jackie, circling and loading another stone in his slingshot. “He’s got a fuckton of magic, and me? I have this rock!”

He launches it at Anti and hits him dead on once more. Anti snarls and glitches the wound away, slicing through thick vines with a machete pulled from thin air.

“Your tricks won’t stop me!” he shouts, finding Blue on one of his cameras and transporting towards him, knife swinging.

“He’s not pissed!” Blue calls to you, taunting. “He’s just scared!”

Anti shouts and transforms into the wolf, launching himself at Blue, teeth snapping.

Anonymous asked: JJ is him, yes! Jameson Jackson!

“Jameson?” repeats Chase, and though he remembers very little, the name still seems to fit, somehow, in his mouth. “That’s… kind of awesome. You look like a JJ.”

Dapper seems particularly touched by this, his mouth drawing shyly up again.

“Do you know the others’ names too?”

“It’s not my place to tell you,” says Dapper, touching his cheek for a moment. “Give them time.”

“Well, should I call you JJ?”

He pauses, glancing away.

“I’m not… sure yet. Should I call you Chase?”

Trick stares at him, cupping the rat in his hand. The warm head drifts sleepily against his palm.

“I think that’d be okay,” he says. “Trick, he - he wasn’t always kind to you. I’d like for Chase to be better.”

He tucks the rat gently back into his hoodie.

“Get everything you need from the room and let’s go.” Chase pulls Dapper to his feet, stroking the rat in his pocket with long, soothing strokes of his thumb. “We might have to be away for a while, I don’t know.”

“I want a knife.”

“We’ll grab one from the kitchen.”

“Then I think I got everything in here.” JJ grabs a black coat from the closet. It’s too nice and warm to match his thin, worn t-shirt and the short sleep pants he’s wearing, but its pockets are stuffed full of what few things he has - his favorite chalks in a ziploc bag, one half of a torn prayer card, a wad of American cash, the picture of Eshe that Max gave him, a GoPro camera, and a few slips of paper Chase doesn’t recognize. He pulls them from the pocket, flipping them over.

“What are these?” he asks. “What - plane tickets?”

“Anti was going to take us back to England to kill Jack like he said.” Dapper taps the word ‘London’ on the tickets. “There’s four tickets. Figured I’d grab them. I don’t know, I just grabbed everything.”

“Clothes and drawing stuff and everything?”

“Still in the backpack.”

Trick swings the pack over his shoulders. He takes Dapper’s hand and holds the rat inside his pocket in the other.

“Here we are,” he tells them both softly. “Let’s go, okay?”

Dapper squeezes his hand. They race down the stairs together, heading for the backdoor, hoping Anti is still distracted long enough for them to reunite with Red and Blue.

In the trees, Anti sees them step out onto the porch. You see him stop short, expression contorting.

“Get back inside!” he shouts, moving towards them. Chase and JJ exchange glances.

Blue and Jackie are panting in the foliage, taking a second to breathe, already half-exhausted. Blue’s hair is singed from his own fire and his hands are heavy with weeds, while a fresh cut bleeds heavily across Jackie’s forehead, but he hardly seems to mind. There’s a vibrant ferocity burning in his eyes.

“Let’s go,” he coughs, staggering to his feet to race out and protect the others.

“Jackie, wait,” calls Blue, pulling him back down. Jackie looks at him, astounded.

“You called me - ”

“Listen, is this the talisman Dok gave you?”

Jackie touches the raven on his breast. “The necklace, yeah. It doesn’t have any more magic, though.”

Blue grabs his shoulder, looking up at him.

“You can use it, though. When you have it. You burn like a star. You’re my counterpart, my twin. I don’t care if Anti was the one who decided it at first. Now we decide it. You are the other part of me.”

“This is sweet, but my baby brothers are on the other side of Anti’s glare right now.”

“Give me the talisman. It can still hold magic. Take my fire.”

Jackie’s eyes go huge.

But only for a moment. He accepts the idea a moment later, blinking. Mind already ahead. Strategizing. Fighting. Leading again. Like he was always meant to do.

“If you can,” says Jackie softly, pressing the necklace into his brother’s fingers. “Then give it to me. And we will share this fight together, my Blue.”

Blue smiles at him.

And then he lets all the power he can give blaze into that necklace, and gives it to his other self.

“Let’s go.”

Anonymous asked: Go Jackieboy Man, protect your family!! You're a shooting star, Astrifer, and it's time to burn like one!

Ro liked having the light magic. He liked burning like a star. The magic felt like having a blanket of warmth wrapped around his whole body. But even then, that was Emmanuela’s magic, and this - this is Blue’s.

This is Marvin’s.

He would know it without sight or sound or touch. He would know it by the way it comforts him, just like Blue always has. He would know it by the way it makes him brave.

Flame follows Jackie out of the trees, his twin at his side, wreathed in bloom and thorn.

“Look at you two,” snarls Anti. “Aren’t you straight out of one of his stories? I should have known. None of us can avoid the destiny he set down for us. We were always going to end up right here once again.”

“This time,” says Blue. “We finish it.”

“When I raze you to the ground, we will call it finished.”

“Anti,” says Trick quietly, eyes wide. “Don’t, okay? Just - just stop, please. Dap and I don’t want you to hurt them. There’s things we won’t forgive.”

Anti turns to him, lips drawn back in indignant fury. “You little bitch. Don’t tell me what to do. You belong to me so keep your mouth shut.”

Trick’s mouth is tight and trembling. His eyes reflect the fire in Jackie’s hands.

“What if I’m not,” he says.

“What?”

“What if I don’t want to be yours anymore?”

Anti hears himself laugh. He’s shaking his head at Trick, eyes slightly confused. “What? Who told you to say that?”

Trick stands close to Dapper. Anti sees the same expression in their faces - wary and scared, yes, and then something harder underneath. Dapper’s eyes speak to him. After all these years, Anti does not need to look into his head. He can see the change in him.

“What are you doing?” he asks. “Where… did you go? Dapper?”

Dapper doesn’t answer him. Doesn’t comfort him. He steps slightly closer to Trick, head low.

“Get away from them, Anti,” says Jackie. “Just… hell, man, just go. Just leave us alone and don’t come back.”

“No, fuck that,” snaps Blue. “You stay and learn what it’s like to scream in fear all over again.”

Anti breathes out, chest shuddering. The fire freezes over in his bitter blue eyes.

He glitches and he grabs Trick and Dapper, wrapping one arm around Trick’s waits, hauling him off his feet, and grabbing Dapper by the hair.

“Anti, don’t do this!” screams Trick.

“You get the hell away from them!” shouts Jackie, fire lighting in his hair.

Everyone is shouting or signing or both, moving towards each other; fire and plant life and painfully-bright colors burst up around them, Anti has a blade to his little brother’s throat and -

Anti hollers in alarm as something sharp digs into his finger. He looks down at his hand around Trick’s stomach, startled.

“Rat!” he screams, dropping Trick and Dapper immediately, glitching all the way up to the roof of the house. “It bit me, it bit me! Fuck you, Trick, you hid that from me? You - ”

His eyes find the raven on Jackie’s sweatshirt.

Anti looks back at Trick, hiding that rat back against his stomach, eyes frantic.

“Dok,” hisses Anti. “You… you, Trick… you took him off the porch, you - all of you… all five of you, the ones that belong to Jack… traitors.”

ari-trash asked: Oh- oh my god, the last raven necklace! Dok is the rat?? Is he okay? D:

“Uhhh, no, this isn’t Dok!” says Trick hurriedly, pressing him down into his pocket. “He’s fine, I hid him! Dok’s not here and he’s definitely not this rat, no way.”

“You… turned my brother into a fucking rat?” says Blue.

“Hey, I got him safe! He trusts me! He’s fine. Aren’t you, Deutsch?”

The rat does look remarkably settled in that hoodie pocket, its tired eyes closed and its little body rising and falling with soft breaths. Anti is gripping his knife so tightly his fingernails cut into his palm, panting almost to the point of hyperventilation. Fuck, muscles and bones confining him, animal flesh coating him, caging him…

“You keep that thing away from me,” he warns. “Trick. Even Trick. Even Trick has… you really are just Jack’s, all of you. Dapper is the only one who… fuck you, fuck you…”

Jackie keeps his eyes trained on Anti as the others surround Trick and Dok, Blue desperately checking on the little body in Chase’s hoodie, stroking his little head and calling sympathies at his younger brother.

“Anti,” says Jackie.

“No, no, no,” Anti is chanting, pupils shot. “No, no, no.”

Anonymous asked: The time has come, Anti. You are alone, utterly fucking alone. As you always deserved to be. They won't take abuse from you any longer.

The trees are mocking him.

Monoliths erected in the deep rich earth, subject to the will of a magician and dotted in his cameras, playing out messages to him - alone, alone, alone.

He can hear laughter. His head spins. He runs his hands along the smooth cool surface of a pumpkin, turns his green eye toward you in a red hallway, sinks beneath Jameson’s skin, tilts his head at the Darkness and laughs, stares at you without saying a word, eye twitching. He hears Jack whispering his name and Chase asking who’s there, feels the heat of Marvin drawing away from his own prophecies in terror, smells the scrap paper and ink of a trashed research room with a doctor sitting at a table, trying to fix everything gone wrong.

And he remembers something unseen by the cameras as well, something you have only heard of - screaming out for Jack to save him while his body mangled into hollow bones and winged flesh, watching his creator turn away from him.

There was grief in Jack’s eyes, but no pity.

“No,” he groans. “I wiped all that away. I’m beyond it now. No. You don’t remember.”

He hears one of them breathing and the bloody beat of their mortal hearts.

“We don’t have to remember, Anti,” comes a small, sad voice. “Not the past. You’re right, it doesn’t matter. Not really. But Anti, we want… we want to be happy now. We don’t want to get hurt anymore. You have to let go of us, Anti. We won’t stay here anymore. They’re right… it’s done.”

His eyes flash open and he is present again, his shadow cast over the group of siblings standing below him, guarded and together, shoulder-to-shoulder, side-by-side. They all have the same blue eyes.

And he sees grief, and rage, and hurt, and fear, and love, and determination.

But no pity.

Not one fucking shred of their pity.

“Very well then,” he hears himself breathe out, and he watches alarm fill up their faces as his body begins to shift beyond his control. His face is twitching. He can feel it, but only distantly. He’s numb and his ears ring, high-pitched and screaming. His body distorts and spasms, blood racing down his ivory throat. “You want to play Jack’s games? Let’s play. I only need one of you. And he will be mine whether he wants to or not.”

Dapper steps back, shaking his head, but too late. Too late.

Anonymous asked: None of them belong to you. Not even Jameson. He always said the day the rest of them turn is the day he too abandons you. You don't own any of them, you utter mythic glitch bitch.

“Jameson!”

“Dapper!”

“Leave him alone!”

His body crashes to the ground, fingers scraping at his skull. He feels Anti in his head again, just like he has been since that first day.

“You will never get free of me,” he hears his Anti’s voice scratch at the inside of his brain.

“Stop, stop!” his hands cry. His brothers are screaming for him, crying out.

“Possessing him won’t do anything! We’ll stop you from hurting him!”

“You’ll just confine yourself to flesh, coward. Fight us in your real form!”

“Dapper doesn’t deserve to get hurt, let him go! You’d have to be able to possess all of us at once to get away with this, Anti. You can’t make us your slaves ever again!”

“Fine!” screams Anti’s voice from all around them, and Jackie, Marvin, and Chase all falter to the grass, grabbing at their heads. “You think I can’t? You think I won’t control you all at once with nothing but my own power? I never needed your faith! I will make you mindless!”

Jackie hollers in pain, his skull pounding with a terrible pressure. Chase is on his side, protesting with the voices he can hear. Marvin grips at the grass, shaking his head out, shaking, shaking, shaking.

“You’re - you’re losing control,” he gasps. “You’ll destroy yourself, Anti.”

A foot presses against his throat and chokes him. He opens his eyes, wheezing, and sees, looking back at him – himself. With green eyes and hatred in his face, glitching and broken, distorted and transparent, himself. Marvin and Anti and Blue all in the same being. Turning his gaze with a desperate cry, Blue sees broken beings like shadows standing around his brothers, too, dark versions of themselves, corrupted and in pain.

And he hears a bitter voice, his own bitter, aching voice, lonely and afraid:

“So be it.”

#chapter four

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goodomensblog · 4 years

Text

Afterward - Part 17

A Good Omens Choose Your Own Adventure Fic

Here’s how it works:

I’ll write a scene.

At the end of each scene, you’ll be presented with 2-3 options for what the characters will choose to do next.

Comment or reblog to vote for your choice. I’ll count all votes after the first 24 hours after each update is posted.

Read: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16

(#2 definitely won - but #4 was a pretty close second, so we’re doing the classic punch and run!)

Afterward - - - Part 17

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

Entropy, rising up, tilts its head and smiles a wide, infinitely deep grin. Pale, ephemeral tendrils squirm where the creature’s head and neck are rapidly reconnecting.

Gabriel has picked up the sword and is twisting it up.

Beelzebub, however, beats him to the punch. Literally.

“Mine,” is all Beelzebub manages, a low, rasping shout. Pushing roughly in front of the archangel, Beelzebub winds a bloodied fist back and strikes.

Their knuckles smack between its eyes - and with a wet sounding squelch, the head which hadn’t yet fully re-attached, flies off Entropy’s shoulders.

This time, however, Entropy seems to retain consciousness, and the head screeches in outrage as it careens across the room.

“Shoo, bitch,” Beelzebub spits.

“My angels,” the head shrieks, rolling across the floor. “Your master commands you! Attack!”

From the top of the courtyard, where tiled roofs curve above stone carved archways, movement draws Beelzebub’s gaze up.

Angels line the tile rooftop, their formidable white wings spread wide. In the place where the angels’ eyes should be, dark, sunken pools hauntingly stare.

From behind Beelzebub, Gabriel makes a low noise of distress.

Beelzebub scans the faces. There are none they readily recognize - Michael and Uriel, at least, are absent. But surely most of the dark eyed angels are - or were - under Gabriel’s command.

“No…” the archangel breathes.

Forcibly ignoring the pain they feel radiating off Gabriel in cold, nauseating waves, Beelzebub shakes their head and, squeezing their hands into fists, cracks their knuckles one by one.

“What are they?” Aziraphale asks, horror lacing his words.

The first angel steps from the rooftop. Where it lands, stone splinters around its feet. From its eyes, black ichor drips, trailing like tears down its pure, celestial skin. It takes a second step, and the floor cracks anew.

“That,” Crowley says, speaking up from the back, “looks like an angel on steroids. Bloody evil steroids.”

Another angel drops. Then another. Gray dust from pulverized stone rises in an ominous cloud.

“I - I have to-” Gabriel is muttering, and Beelzebub can feel him moving behind them, probably making up his mind to do something stupid.

“Yeah,” Beelzebub says, surveying the hoard of freaky angels. “Fuck this noise.”

Turning right the hell around, Beelzebub grabs Gabriel roughly by the arm.

When he doesn’t move - like the absolute asshole he is - Beelzebub grits their teeth and yanks, violently hauling the lead-limbed archangel with them. When they look up and see that Aziraphale and Crowley are still standing there, waiting, they yell, “Oi! Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum! Fucking move!”

Crowley and Aziraphale retreat through the doorway, but go no further.

Beelzebub is panting, blood from a cut they didn’t even realize they had dripping into their eyes, and the room is tilting as a frankly annoying whine picks up in their ears - but this is no time to pass out, so Beelzebub doesn’t.

At least Gabriel is finally moving; Beelzebub, all too happy to release him, shoves the archangel through the door.

Upon crossing the threshold, Beelzebub is hastily elbowed out of the way by Crowley; Aziraphale, bracing a hand on the wall, traces glowing symbols on the floor.

“What’s-”

“That’s why we were waiting,” Crowley snaps.

Beelzebub reflects that if the room were spinning any less, they would have happily smacked that smug look off his face.

Instead, they crouch, bracing their hands on their knees.

Aziraphale straightens up with a satisfied nod. “That’ll do the trick.”

Then Crowley is swinging the door closed. Hand on the handle, he melts the lock.

“If Aziraphale did what I think he did, we do not want to be here when they cross that threshold,” Crowley says.

“I did,” Aziraphale says with a grim smile.

Gabriel, who Beelzebub thinks is looking more like his usual insufferable self by the minute, claps his hands together. “Then let’s fucking go!”

“Right!” Crowley crows, pointing at Gabriel, “Your illicit sneaking out of Heaven door!”

Beelzebub and Aziraphale turn to look at Gabriel.

“Okay it’s really not as weird as he’s making it sound.”

“It doesn’t matter-” Aziraphale says with a wave, but Beelzebub isn’t listening.

Blinking rapidly, they frown at the black dots blossoming across their vision. They immediately blink harder because they are not going to pass out; It is a fucking bad time for losing consciousness - and besides, they’d honestly rather die than look weak in front of these morons.

Crowley is turning, leading the way, and Beelzebub starts to step after him - when everything takes a sharp and sudden dip.

And shit - Beelzebub thinks, consciousness slipping as a roaring white noise fills their ears. Blackness is spreading, sweeping across their vision.

They see outstretched, reaching hands - and then darkness swallows them whole.

Reality narrows to individual, isolated moments.

The press of fine, soft as silk fabric against their cheek.

A long hallway lit by a single flickering light.

Aziraphale, pale with purple bruises beneath his eyes, pulling a tapestry aside - pushing a doorway open.

Crowley’s hands cupped around that strange, blue flame.

Then white light - at the end of a long, dark tunnel.

Beelzebub stiffens, crying out in protest - because they know the saying about light and tunnels, and they straight up refuse to let that prick Death lay those frigid hands on them now.

This is followed by the soft, hesitant brush of fingers over their forehead and a whisper-soft murmur. “Don’t worry. It’s not that kind of tunnel.”

Again, darkness.

And then Crowley is exclaiming, shouting excitedly, and Beelzebub squints their eyes open to glaring sunlight - and a sleek black car, parked on what appears to be a random London street corner.

When someone swings one of the rear doors open, Beelzebub has a sense of deja vu as they are laid down on black leather seats.

Voices drone, someone shifts beside them, and the car awakens with a reassuring purr; Beelzebub’s tired eyes close.

- - -

Brushing his hands over the steering wheel, Crowley sits in the Bentley, taking a moment to enjoy the car’s energetic rumble. She doesn’t handle long periods of idleness very well. And though Crowley hasn’t been gone all that long, he imagines it must have been rather demoralizing to have been abandoned on a lonesome countryside road. He’ll have to make sure she’s still in working shape.

“Just cause I gave you a little vacation,” Crowley says, tapping the dashboard admonishingly, “is no excuse for any slacking off, you understand?”

The car rumbles, and Crowley sighs, rolling his eyes. “See? I leave you for half a day and now I’m getting back talk.”

“Can we please just fucking go?” Gabriel snaps.

A glance in the rear-view mirror reveals the altogether unpleasant sight of Gabriel’s frowning face.

The archangel is pressed up against the door, his large arms folded impractically in front of him.

Beelzebub, in the few minutes after they’d been set down, had somehow completely rotated, and now they stretch out, arms flung out in either direction. Their booted feet are kicked up - one jabbing Gabriel’s side and the other shoved up against his face.

The archangel glowers.

From the passenger seat, Aziraphale clears his throat.

Crowley’s attention is immediately diverted.

Aziraphale is battered. Deep scratches scatter over the entirety of his person, and a bone deep exhaustion shows in his overall pallor and the bags like dark bruises gathering beneath his light eyes.

Crowley has the impulse to stroke a thumb beneath that gentle gaze and burn a miracle to soothe some of the exhaustion marring his skin.

He doesn’t.

Because he filled Aziraphale’s veins with demon blood, and Crowley isn’t entirely sure Aziraphale won’t come to resent him for it.

The desperate transfusion had worked. Aziraphale is here. That is what matters. But the fact that the cost of this gamble - the cost of mixing that which was never meant to join - has yet to reveal itself, leaves Crowley deeply on edge.

“Dear,” Aziraphale says, mercifully interrupting Crowley’s rapidly spiraling thoughts. “We fled the bookshop earlier because we believed we were dealing with a threat who knew us, personally. Entropy does not know us. And I presume that it does not know where I live.”

“...you want to go home, don’t you?”

“Yes I want to go home!” Aziraphale says in a rush, hands folded, his fingers twisting together. “It’s been a really long day.”

Crowley considers, drumming his fingers on the wheel. “I suppose we could ward the hell out of it.”

Aziraphale is eagerly nodding, “I already have a good few around the foundation as it is.”

“Is it defensible?” Gabriel asks.

“Better,” Aziraphale replies. “It’s hidden.”

“Though adding a few defenses wouldn’t hurt,” Crowley adds.

“As long as we get off the damned street,” Gabriel says with a weary sigh.

“That, we can do,” Crowley says, shifting the car into drive.

“Wait!” Aziraphale says, grabbing Crowley’s arm. “First, we need food, Crowley.”

“....right this second?”

“As soon as possible. You do realize that we should avoid using powerful miracles at the moment, right?”

Crowley glances in the rear-view mirror, only somewhat mollified to see that Gabriel is also staring at Aziraphale with an expression of blatant confusion.

“Er - yes? I mean, we don’t want to go around putting beacons on our heads,” Crowley replies. “But what in the world does this have to do with food?”

Aziraphale is staring at him like he might be stupid - which he’s not. Right?

Crowley checks the rear-view mirror again.

Gabriel is squinting at Aziraphale. “Aziraphale. What are you talking about?”

Aziraphale looks between them, mouth agape.

From the backseat, Beelzebub groans.

“Angel,” Beelzebub says, cracking an eye reluctantly open, “They’re both idiots. Don’t… strain their brains.”

Aziraphale glances back, relief evident. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“Of course I know what you’re talking about!” Beelzebub replies, and the other eye opens to a menacing slit. “Food strengthens your bloody corporation. You. Are. Living. In. It. So fucking feed it. The stronger your corporation is - the stronger you are.”

Aziraphale is nodding vigorously. “And we are all very injured. Beelzebub especially. A good meal will help kick start our angelic - and demonic - healing.”

“Ah,” is all Crowley manages.

“Honestly, dear. You really didn’t know that?”

Crowley, who will frankly never admit that he played hookie during the body orientation seminar to check out the strange angel he’d seen walking up on Eden’s wall, adjusts his glasses and shrugs. “I’m a demon. What’s the archangel’s excuse?”

“Corporeal bodies are not my department.”

Beelzebub blows a raspberry.

“Since you’re awake, your highness - mind moving your foot out of my face?”

Beelzebub’s only reply is a long, deep snore.

Crowley shuts both of them up by jerking the car into motion.

Food it is!” Crowley says, foot sinking satisfyingly down on the gas pedal. “And I know just where to take us.”

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

The angels and demons have managed to escape Heaven and flee from Entropy. Before holing up at Aziraphale’s bookshop and deciding their next move - Aziraphale insists they get something to eat. Crowley decides the best place to get a couple of angels and demons lunch is….

The grocery store! Crowded around a single cart, they will shuffle round the aisles of the local grocery mart, exploring the strange wonders of fluorescent illuminated human cuisine.

The Ritz! Sitting elbow to elbow around a pristine white tablecloth, they will be sipping at champagne and making awkward small talk. Probably nothing will catch fire.

The drive thru! Packed in the Bentley, Crowley will drive them all to the greasiest of fast food establishments. With all three speaking at once, Crowley will attempt to order.

Please comment or reblog to vote! :)

Part 18

#my writing #choose your own adventure #choose your own adventure fic #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #ineffable bureaucracy #aziraphale #crowley #good omens beelzebub #good omens gabriel #good omens #good omens fic #good omens fanfiction #multi-chapter fic #ineffable husbands fic #ineffable husbands fanfiction

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earmuffstar · 3 years

Text

glazed eyes, empty hearts

ao3 link!! Summary: Remus lay on the carpet in the Commons, drinking something inedible and trying to figure out if he could saw off his hand. OR: Remus has ways of keeping himself from full lucidity. Janus has some things to say about it. Genre: canonverse angst Relationships: Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders (platonic dukeceit/demus/intruceit) Words: 1589 Additional Tags/Warnings: Self-Harm, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Mentions of Dismemberment, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Swearing

Remus lay on the carpet in the Commons, drinking something inedible and trying to figure out if he could saw off his hand.

He’d have to clamp his right arm down—since his left arm was stronger—and on a table, probably, for the best angle. He’d use an electric saw, to keep himself from stopping halfway through from the pain. Maybe he’d even get away with it, too: right here on the living room table in the middle of Family Game Night, or whatever the Lights were doing, he wasn't paying attention. The others normally didn’t question what Remus did, whether a product of not wanting to look too closely or because they just didn’t care, he didn’t know. It came in handy at times like this—ha, handy, he should tell that to Pappy Patouille.

“Handy!” Remus screeched. The conversation stuttered like tripping over a stone, tumbling to the pavement, skittering off a cliff and ending up squished in half by a train on criss-crossed railway tracks before resuming its pace as normal.

Remus went back to pondering his drink, now half-empty. He kind of hoped it was alcohol, although even the more potent stuff didn’t do much for him anymore. Maybe bleach, then. He took a gulp. Snapped his fingers and malathion filled the rest of the concoction to the top. Downed the glass. It didn’t taste half bad—he almost wished it tasted worse—but it made his head spin and his thoughts appropriately fuzzy, which was all he needed.

Remus stood up, bracing himself against the armrest as the room wavered, legs quivering inappropriately under his weight. The room continued their conversation—he couldn’t make out the words, not like he wanted to, he was sure it was about Disney or some other unimportant shit—as he sunk out.

The corner of Thomas’ mind which embodied Dark Creativity, forbidden thoughts, the macabre, badness, demented reason, remained perpetually in disrepair. Remus tripped over shards of glass—broken Bud Light’s?—needles, plastic orange bottles, and crashed to his knees somewhere wet, cheek brushing against bones and plywood as his eyelids drooped shut.

~~~

Remus shifted as he came to: alive, in his room, with a mind far too alert and lucid. Had he messed up with whatever he’d drunk last night—accidentally used orange juice or some shit instead of malathion? Remus growled in frustration. The easiest methods of forced mental incoherence—starvation, lack of sleep, the like—always took the longest time to take effect. If he’d paid attention last night, he would have been able to perpetuate the misery longer without this unfortunate break. He’d have to resort to more drastic measures for instant relief.

At least the blackout was nice. He normally didn’t get such an easy reprieve. When nightmares didn’t torment his sleep, the knowledge of coherence and well-restedness it offered did.

Dark Imagination always exhaled cold, stinking of rot and filth, miasma and decay. His thoughts always amplified in his domain, spinning and twisting in a way that felt good—or rather, felt terrible, which was good. Remus sank his foot into the muck, his realm unnaturally still. His creations normally drew into hiding when he came here like this—they didn’t like to see him do this. Welp. Too bad for them.

Here was a total blank slate. He could do anything. Remus’ claws itched.

It sucked how much it hurt, was the thing. The pain was delicious, and he soaked it up, reveled in it like cloth soaking blood, he needed it—but it still hurt, at the very beginning, the moment when knife hit flesh. The physical pain always hurt like hell, but the greater the pain at the beginning the longer it would keep hurting, and if at least some part of him was hurting he didn’t have to hurt a different part again to balance out the hurt in his brain.

Remus heard the footsteps only after rivulets of blood ran down his fingers.

“Remus?” The voice came soft, low, with a hint of a hiss curling the edge of their words. Remus’ blood ran cold, drip, drip, dripping onto the ground, and he grinned a false smile as he turned around—pointless, Janus always saw through him, Janus was the one person who wouldn’t brush off his antics as his simply unfortunate nature.

“Hey, welcome, Janny-Jan! Just messing around, you know me.” Remus was still far too coherent for this, brain just as awake as it had been when he’d woken up feeling nothing unnatural in his system despite the pain. Remus summoned a bottle of arsenic, aiming to chug it, when his fingers grasped empty air. Janus held the bottle away from him with one of his extra hands.

“Give it back, Jan.”

“Remus, this isn’t healthy.”

Remus cackled. The notion of “healthy” deserved that much. “Does it look like I care? Give it back.”

Janus sighed, looking resigned, and Remus knew what was going to happen before it did. That didn’t mean he didn’t struggle as six arms wrapped around him, yanking him from his domain into Janus’ room. Janus deposited him on a bed, holding him down by his arms and ignoring Remus’ pleas with practiced care.

Gloved hands met his own, stopping him every time he tried to scratch his arms, eyes, limbs. Already Remus could feel the effects of Janus’ room sink into his body, denials becoming truths as they healed his wounds, and Remus detested the comfort even as he gave in to it. Janus sat down next to him as the fight bled out of him, its absence hurting somehow more than blood and guts spilling from his wounds.

“Why do you keep doing this?” Janus said quietly, no more to Remus than to the air, but he shrugged anyway. He’d tried for far too long to rationalize his actions, formulate some sort of reasoning, some story, some grand reason why. Eventually he stopped trying, because no amount of reasoning ever stopped him. He would either do something or he wouldn’t, and that was how it worked—whatever thought that had led him to that action could have been fleeting, could have been in response to the opposite inclination, could have been anything. He’d long since given up on trying to understand his mind.

Janus should stop worrying. It wasn’t like anything would kill him, anyway.

“Well!” Remus struggled to sit up. “This has been fun, but—”

“Remus, you can’t—”

“I’m perfectly fine now, so—”

“You’re not —”

“I can’t say it’s been lovely but I should be going, got places to be—”

Janus looked about to explode, or cry, and personally Remus thought the former would be much cooler, wondered how flesh would become explosive, charred, twisted, dead. “We have to talk about this, Remus! I can’t— I can’t let you continue like this.”

Something furious and burning licked through his spine. Remus went still—still like the night, still like corpses buried six feet under the winter chill, still like death. Janus’ expression quickly smoothed over, but Remus was pleased to read fear in the pinch of his brow. “What I do,” Remus hissed, “is not up to you. I am not your charity project, and I understand perfectly well what I’m doing. You don’t get to take this away from me.”

“Remus, you—” Janus’ breath hitched. Remus didn’t— couldn’t turn to look at his face. “You can’t possibly think this is a long-term solution to your problems! ‘Oh yes, continually hurting myself will make my life better, it won’t have any lasting effects on anyone at all—’”

“I don’t want to think !” Remus screamed. He would have glared at the yellow-clad side had exhaustion not burrowed into his bones. Or maybe that was just the blood loss, or the aftereffects of the alcohol. “I don’t want to feel better, I don’t want to feel normal, or healthy, I just want to— to be numb, to be—”

He’d grown too used to incoherence to be able to deal with reality without it. The fact that the poisons gave him an excuse for being a fuck up, and that he’d have no shield, no scapegoat, no backup if he was still a fuck-up while being fully coherent. He didn’t particularly want to stop, not anymore, not for all the effort it’d take with too little payoff—but Remus knew better than to talk about his self-destructive tendencies to Self-Preservation.

Remus turned his back on Janus, though he felt his gaze tracing his spine. He wondered how long Janus was going to sit here with him—Janus knew better than to leave Remus unattended in his room.

Janus stood up abruptly, drawing Remus’ eye. He grabbed Remus by the arm again, and, to Remus' surprise, he felt the vertigo-like falling sensation of sinking back into his own room. Janus released his grip, opened his mouth, closed it again without speaking, and suddenly Remus found arms around folded him in an embrace. “We will be talking about this again,” Janus murmured, before both him and his touch disappeared as quick as it had come. Silence resounded in his wake, and Remus realized he’d been given what he’d asked for—his freedom.

Remus summoned another bottle of arsenic and drained it, relishing the way it instantly weakened his limbs, confused his thoughts. He sunk back onto his bed of corpses and plywood, gaze falling limp over his realm, wind rustling over eyes that saw no sights and ears that heard no sound.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #remus sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #ts remus #ts janus #dukeceit #demus #platonic dukeceit #platonic demus #tw self harm #tw unhealthy coping mechanisms #tw implied drug use #tw implied alcohol use #tw swearing #tw mentions of dismemberment #this was a vent fic but i actually liked it?? so its being posted #i figured remus would be proud of it and that's all i need

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elefics · 4 years

Text

torment / chapter 4

word count: 3.4k

The week after the ball, I heard nothing from Michael. Not seeing him tied my stomach in knots.

It took me a while to realise this was what missing him felt like. It was more intense than anything else I’d felt for a boy before.

I’d had boyfriends, if you could call them that. In high school, I’d had two brief flings with two boys who didn’t know how to be boyfriends (not that I was very good at any of it either, but I knew they weren’t doing it right). It felt funny to put Michael in the same train of thought as high school boyfriends. We’d spoken a handful of times, but the connection I felt to him was different. It was a pull in my core, like my soul was reaching out of my body. I knew there was more to him. I knew I’d barely scratched the surface.

One morning, Cordelia stopped me by the stairs. There was an urgency in her eyes.

“Lyla,” she grabbed my arm tight in her grip. “I need to ask you something, and I need you to answer truthfully.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, nodding slowly.

“That boy you were with, the warlock, at breakfast. What do you think of him?” She asked.

The wind was knocked out of me. I focused on breathing evenly and keeping myself upright as my hands shook against the banister. I brought all my energy to my core, envisioning blue, calm light there. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, I was totally serene. Cordelia blinked, waiting for me to answer.

“He seems nice. A little quiet, reserved. Why? What’s wrong?” I asked measuredly.

She twisted her lips. “I can’t place it. That morning, I had a vision. Something bad – something evil, overwhelmingly so, is coming. I felt it when I looked at him.” Her voice shook. I saw a flicker of fear in our matriarch, and it was only then that I felt something might be…off about Michael.

“What did you see?” I asked.

“Death. Decay. So much terror and heartache and darkness. I can’t explain it. I didn’t know where else to turn…” Cordelia trailed off.

“What do you mean by that? Cordelia, what happened?” I urged.

“You must be Lyla. I’ve heard a lot about you, and this boy Michael.” An old voice rang out from the top of the stairs.

I recognised the flaming red hair first. Myrtle Snow.

She was meant to be dead. I’d only ever seen her in paintings and pictures. According to Cordelia, she was one of the best women the Academy had ever seen. She was kind, strong, intelligent. Cordelia often teared up by the fireplace when she recounted stories about Myrtle. Seeing her here, in the flesh, with Cordelia trembling beside me, I knew something was wrong. Cordelia would never have brought her back if she wasn’t at her wit’s end. How had I not known? How had we all missed this?

“Myrtle Snow.” Her red glove extended towards me. I shook her hand and smiled weakly.

“Cordelia, dear, I believe we have an appointment.” Myrtle said, looping her arm through our Supreme’s.

Today, Cordelia was off to visit the warlocks, along with Zoe and Myrtle. She had been busier in the last two weeks than she had all year – diplomacy was her priority right now. I could tell she still had her reservations; over dinner, she’d stare into her wine glass for minutes without blinking, churning over the events of the day. She often went off to meetings and wouldn’t be back until after dark. She was up to something, or maybe she suspected someone else was.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Michael, and Cordelia’s questions about him. He was a boy. A warlock, and apparently a powerful one, but as far as I’d seen, he was just…a boy. What could they want with him?

“Girls! Come down here, immediately!” Cordelia yelled. I jumped from my chair, taking the steps two at a time to see what was wrong.

Two new faces stood beside Cordelia. I recognised them immediately, just like I had Myrtle. I’d seen them in photo albums around the house, but had never met them myself – Madison and Queenie.

“My girls. My beautiful, beautiful girls. Your sisters are home.” Cordelia cried. Myrtle squeezed her hand reassuringly.

A few other girls had congregated at the bottom of the stairs. It was like seeing a ghost. One thought ricocheted around the room like a bullet: How?

“Someone make some tea. We have much to discuss.” Myrtle commanded.

That day, over half empty cups, Cordelia told us everything.

That beautiful boy, the one I’d danced with all night at the ball and who’d adorned my neck with diamonds, was more powerful than he let on. My very first thought was, I should have taken what Jerome said on board. Was it a warning? A message?

“Michael brought our girls back. While grateful, I simply can’t see how he could be the next Supreme. Warlocks have never, ever claimed this title. As far as anybody knows, it’s impossible.” Cordelia mused. Several witches nodded enthusiastically.

“He gives me the creeps. Something about him isn’t right.” Olivia, a witch a few years younger than me, said. Her nose wrinkled in disgust. I clenched my jaw defensively.

“I just can’t see it. I went to the ball with him. He seems so…normal.” I spoke up, surprising even myself.

Every pair of eyes in the room swivelled to face me.

“What’s he like, then?” Olivia sneered.

“Quiet. That’s all.” I said, looking into the bottom of my cup.

“He doesn’t seem so bad. He was at our table, seemed like a decent guy…and he saved our sisters.” Penny spoke up.

I was flooded with gratitude, which I’m sure she felt, as she shot a smile my way. At least I didn’t look crazy on my own.

“That may be so. Regardless, I want you all to be more alert. Because tonight, we’re going to the Hawthorne school. Michael is to perform the seven wonders.”

A gasp ripped through the girls.

“I haven’t even had a chance yet! That’s not fair!” Olivia whined.

Cordelia smiled tightly, “This title is a burden, Olivia. You should be glad you’re not in the spotlight tonight,” She sighed. “I am not happy about it. But if this boy is as powerful as the warlocks say he is, I cannot stand in the way of the coven.” She squeezed both the returned witches’ knees affectionately.

“Be ready by dark. Look presentable.” Myrtle ordered finally.

---

The day, and all its confusing revelations, exhausted me. I fell asleep in my clothes at three in the afternoon. I dreamt of Michael, as usual. This time, he was grabbing my hand, pulling me further and further into the rolling green fields beside the Academy, running – I couldn’t tell if it was away from or towards something.

“Lyla. Lyla, wake up. Lyla-”

Sweat slicked my forehead when I jolted awake. My room was empty and drenched in golden light. I sighed heavily, squeezing my eyes shut and open again.

Like a mirage, Michael stood in the yard outside my window. I blinked to make sure I wasn’t still dreaming. He smiled, and without a word exchanged between us I was hurrying down the stairs. Most girls were too busy with study to notice. I slipped out the back door like a ghost.

“Hi.” He greeted me, reaching out for my hand. My skin buzzed at his touch. He immediately led me away from the house, into the field like in my dream. He smiled, but kept his gaze fixed on the horizon.

I wasn’t used to this kind of contact with Michael – his thumb drawing soft, unconscious lines across the back of my hand. He seemed completely at ease.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Somewhere quiet. Away from them.” He cast his eyes back towards the looming shadows of the Academy.

I kept quiet the rest of the way. Instead of talking, I drank him in. I felt like an addict, clinging to any scrap of Michael available to me. His black combat boots crunched against the dry grass. He donned faded black jeans and a black tee shirt, a departure from the more formal attire I’d seen him in. I admired the smooth golden skin of his upper arms, and the freckle near his elbow. The chain I loved so much was hanging across his chest. I bit my lip and tried to keep my thoughts quiet, locking them tightly in a box inside me. I hoped it was enough to stop him overhearing.

Eventually, we came to a tall tree with just enough shade for the two of us. Michael sat down cross-legged and waited for me to do the same. Our knees touched, and neither of us moved away.

“What’s with all the secrecy?” I whispered.

“First of all, I heard you earlier. You called me normal.” He fake pouted.

“Well, they certainly don’t seem to think so,” I sighed. “Why?”

“It’s complicated.” He picked at the grass, scattering blades in the breeze.

“Everything’s complicated with you, huh.” I looked at up him. Every time I thought I was starting to get to know him, another wall went up between us.

He smiled, taking my hand into his. He played with my fingertips gently, traced the lines across my knuckles. “You have no idea.”

“So, the seven wonders test. Everyone’s losing their minds in there.” I laughed. Personally, I didn’t give a shit if the Supreme was a witch or a warlock. But I hated the idea of losing Cordelia…and I didn’t want to fathom that that might be the cost of Michael’s success.

“Will you be there?” He asked softly, looking up at me. His baby blue eyes looked so vulnerable, so innocent. He needed me, whether he’d admit it or not.

My heart swelled in my chest as I nodded. “Of course.”

He leaned closer, our noses half an inch away from each other. “Can I kiss you?” He breathed.

“You’ve never asked before.” I whispered. My heart was in my throat.

“This is different. For good luck. Can I kiss you?” He repeated.

I kissed him before he could ask again. This was different to his kisses at the ball – before it was lust, now it was…something else. He kissed me like I was air, like he needed me to survive. His lips fought mine hungrily, moving closer until my back was against the solid tree. His hand cradled the side of my face, tangling into the base of my ponytail. Pinned there, tight against his body, Michael made me forget anything existed at all.

---

The sun was setting by the time I slipped back into the house. Leaning against the front door, my head spun like a coin. I was dizzy with bliss – kissing Michael was how it was supposed to feel, I was certain.

He’d had gone a different route, avoiding the house all together. While the witches were on high alert, we had to keep things quiet. He peppered my face with kisses on that last corner, before he turned right and I continued. I still felt their warmth.

“Where have you been?” Zoe asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

“For a walk.” I’d never been good at lying, but I shocked myself at how easily it rolled off my tongue. I had a feeling spending time with Michael was going to make me a very, very good liar.

“Car’s ready.” She shrugged, leaving the front door open for the remaining girls.

The Hawthorne School didn’t look as nice as Robichaux’s from the outside, but the inside was dark and lush. Wine-red lounges sat on cool cement floors, and every wall was lined with old books. Cordelia and Myrtle sniffed with disdain, claiming the air reeked of unwashed teenage boys. I tried to hide my eye rolls. The witches filtered in, and the cement doors slid shut. We milled around the common area, chatting idly with the warlocks, but the air crackled with anticipation. I hadn’t seen Michael yet.

Ariel and his men stood by the hallway, muttering under their breath to one another. John Henry lit up another cigarette, tapping his foot impatiently.

I made my way to the edges of the room, wanting to melt into the walls. If Michael wasn’t here, I had no desire to be here either. As I inched around the outskirts of the room, I felt a warm pair of hands around my waist. He pulled me backwards into the pitch-black hallway and I didn’t flinch.

“I missed you.” He whispered against my lips. The jeans and tee shirt I’d seen earlier were discarded – tonight, Michael was in a full black suit, with a small silver pendant close to this collar. I laughed softly. It had been a few hours, tops. I had this kid in the palm of my hand. Michael didn’t seem happy to overhear this; he bit down on my lip, then wedged his knee between my thighs. Rocking it there, the friction was unbearable. A moan rose in my throat, but Michael clapped his hand over my mouth before it surfaced. I ran my tongue against his thumb and his eyes darkened, even in the low light. He kissed me again, deeply.

“Tonight, doing all this, know that all I want is to be here with you.” His eyes smouldered with intensity. I believed him.

He pushed me into the room softly, smirking in the darkness. He didn’t come out until he was called.

Ariel’s hand rested on Michael’s shoulder like a proud father.

“Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, is a momentous occasion. The first warlock to ever attempt the seven wonders. Michael Langdon.” Ariel said his name like a prayer.

“No need for theatrics. The first task is telekinesis.” Cordelia said shortly.

Michael summoned the fire poker from the fireplace across the room, landing in his hand with ease. My heart soared with pride, then guilt. How could I be happy for him, and be a witch? Weren’t the two at odds with each other?

“Vitalum vitalis.” Cordelia declared.

A small, brown mouse lay dead on the tabletop. Michael gathered its tiny body into his hands, closed his eyes, and in seconds the animal was alive, sprightly.

“Concilium.”

Zoe and Madison’s bodies were pushed together by invisible forces, and they danced an awkward waltz. This all seemed to come so easily to Michael – he was the real deal.

“Divination,” Cordelia said, scattering a handful of stones across the table. “The locket hidden somewhere in this building-”

Michael immediately rose to his feet and strode to a small cabinet. I hadn’t even noticed it when we’d arrived. But somehow, he knew. The golden locket hung between his fingers delicately. The smugness emanating off Ariel was palpable.

“Transmutation.” Cordelia spoke. There was a smile in her tone – clearly, she thought this would be Michael’s downfall. She was searching for a chink in his armour.

Michael stood in the centre of the room. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. When I blinked, he’d moved twenty feet, to stand beside the warlocks. The boys’ cheers filled the room. Again, with a small puff of smoke, he appeared beside me, across the room. I longed to touch him, but quickly remembered where we were. He smiled softly. I ignored the witches’ sounds of disgust.

“Pyrokinesis.” Cordelia’s voice shook a little now.

Ariel handed Michael the short blade. Without a second guess, Michael sliced his palm open, letting the blood drip into the flame of a candle. The light was brighter than anything I’d ever seen – nuclear, incredible.

“The final task, descensum. Today, I am not asking you to perform this wonder. I am asking you to conquer it. You must retrieve Misty Day.” Cordelia said. My gut twisted – I was torn in half. One part of me knew Cordelia was grasping at straws, desperate for a rule change this late in the game to dethrone any potential Michael had at being our leader. The other part of me knew something about this boy wasn’t magic at all, it was something more.

Ariel asked for a word alone with Cordelia. The room burst into chatter the second they left.

Michael stood beside me, hands behind his back. His confidence radiated like flames.

“Are you nervous?” I whispered, keeping my gaze ahead of me.

“No. I have you.” He whispered back.

After some heated debate, and Cordelia appearing especially flustered, Michael laid on the floor, reciting incantations. Six minutes. That’s all it took. Six minutes for him to descend into Hell, Misty’s own personal suffering, and bring her back to life. He barely broke a sweat.

After standing up and straightening his jacket, Michael glowed with pride. He avoided looking at me, knowing better than to draw attention to us, but glanced my way a few times. I tried to make my thought as loud as possible – I am so proud of you. You’ve done so well. Thank you for bringing our friend back.

“Cordelia.” Myrtle spoke, eyes wide with worry. Our Supreme’s nose had begun dripping with blood, and she quickly stumbled.

“What’s happening?” I asked, rushing to Cordelia’s side. I felt her arms quivering weakly.

“What always happens when a new Supreme rises: the old one fades away. We demand what’s ours.” Ariel spoke, his face hard with determination. The other warlocks nodded in agreement.

“You are a pathetic pompous ass!” Myrtle yelled. It seemed to be directed at all the warlocks, not any one in particular.

“I did everything you asked. I descended into Hell, and I did what you couldn’t. I brought her back. I passed the seven wonders. Unless you want to add another one.” Michael’s said calmy, with a pinch of sass. His expression scorched under the surface.

“No. There can be no doubt. You are the next Supreme.” Cordelia managed, before falling to the floor.

“Cordelia!” I yelled, reaching out for her. Among the chaos, Michael smiled.

---

Later, in a room off the main corridor, Cordelia sat wrapped in a blanket. I hid just outside the door, listening. I had to know what was going on, what they were planning.

Misty brought in a cup of tea, and I ducked into the shadows.

“I knew you for such a short time, but I missed you forever.” Cordelia said softly, looking at Misty in awe.

“You should have left me where I was. That man you sent to fetch me – he gives me the heebie-jeebies. There is something wrong with him.” Misty whispered.

No. I can’t accept that.

“When he came to get me, he was…talking to somebody. Something. I could hear their gibberish, all around the classroom. Evil was speaking to him.” Misty recounted.

“Delia, what have we done? We’ve anointed that boy the next Supreme.” Myrtle lamented.

“He will never be the Supreme. I needed to know how strong he was. I knew there was something…dangerous about him, something dark. I had to keep him close, so we’d be ready. Something is coming. I can feel it. Michael Langdon has already given us an advantage – I have all my girls back with me.” Cordelia smiled.

My heart was by my feet and my arms were covered in goosebumps. There was no way Michael was as bad as everyone said he was. I knew in his core, there was good. I just had to bring it to light.

The women stood to leave.

I quickly snuck away, watching where I stepped so as to not let them know I’d been eavesdropping. Taking a few steps down the corridor, I hid I the shadows like a creep until they’d moved back into the common area.

“How long have you been hiding, angel?” A familiar deep voice asked behind me. I yelped, and Michael grabbed my hand to let me know it was him.

“You scared me!” I whispered, smacking his chest lightly.

He smirked, chuckling to himself. “Listening in on gossip?” He teased.

My stomach churned. “Something like that. They’re worried about Cordelia.” I lied. I focused on that blue light inside me, hoping Michael wouldn’t sense my heart racing. I knew in my heart I couldn’t tell him what I’d overheard, not yet. I had to understand it for myself first.

“How are you feeling, boy wonder?” I asked lightly, tracing the outline of his tie.

“Tired, and seen – I’m sick of everyone staring at me.” He growled, flicking his eyes at the warm light of the common room. He brought my hand up to him mouth, brushing his lips against my knuckles. I shuddered.

“I need coffee. I know a place.” He smiled, taking my hand.

taglist: @theneverendinghunger @outpostmichael @angelicmichael @leatherduncan

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valkyrieofsmut · 4 years

Text

Captive Love 15

UF!Sans x Reader (or Frisk if you wanna)

Summary: And we pick up that night... oooo, Sans gets naughty....

A/N: Hey, just sayin'... If anyone wanted to, I don't know... draw something inspired by any of my stories... it would be timely, since it's my birthday today... It's cool if not! I'm just sayin'... IF.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Story

That night....

(Y/n) climbed into the bed, reflecting on the day.

Strange how much a few hours could change your perspective; she’d started the day thinking that Sans was an asshole trying to keep her kidnapped, but now, she felt more like he was trying to keep her safe from the monsters that would do her harm.

The door closed as Sans came back in from his nightly routine, silently climbing in the bed behind her.

He’d been quiet since they’d gotten back from town. He hadn’t even fought with Papyrus, which (Y/n) could tell had made the taller skeleton worried.

Sans tested the waters, slowly getting closer to her, wrapping his arms around her when she didn’t protest.

He nuzzled into her neck, seeming to take comfort in holding her against him.

She didn’t know what had gotten him down, but she was pretty damn sure that it had to do with what had happened on their adventure out to town.

"'m sorry." It came out as a breath, almost inaudible.

"F-r wh-t?" (Y/n) asked after a moment. [for what?]

"fer… fer this," he murmured into her hair, one finger touching the collar around her throat. "... i-... useta be mine," he admitted softly.

Confusion filled (Y/n) at the admission. He'd worn a collar?

The question was obvious on her face. Why?

"w-was fer… controllin' me… but i don't want it ta keep control a ya; don't want it ta do anythin' but keep ya safe… jus' wanna keep ya safe, sweetheart…" He murmured.

(Y/n) fought his hold, managing to turn around to face him, moved by the pure emotion in his voice.

Her hand reached up to his cheek bone, her thumb brushing over the bone.

Sans' hand went up to cup her jaw, his thumb tracing her bottom lip and pausing for a moment before his hand slid up to tangle in her hair.

He leaned forward, his teeth meeting her lips, the points pressing against her lips as he parted them, his tongue slowly reaching out to meet hers and deepening the kiss.

It was different from any kiss they'd shared so far; slow, soft, the heat building over time instead of hitting all at once, full force.

Sans rolled so he was over her, his body pressing against hers.

A soft sound left (Y/n), and her hands reached out, one sliding down his clavicle, her nails scratching along it before reaching his shirt and clenching around it to pull him closer.

A deep groan pushed its way from Sans at the feeling of her nails scratching him, his hips grinding into her.

The hand not holding her to his mouth moved down her body, wrapping around the back of her thigh and giving a squeeze before tugging to wrap it around him, her other leg following the motion on its own, opening her soft center to him.

His tongue and teeth moved down her jaw as he pressed his pelvis against her, a warm bulge grinding into her, pulling a whimper from her throat.

She was heating up under him, her hands tugging at his shirt in an attempt to get him closer as she arched up, a soft moan leaving her at the friction.

The hand in her hair detangled itself, sliding down to gather one breast for his mouth to give attention to, his tongue licking slowly over the stiff nipple through the fabric of her shirt, teeth nipping gently as he pulled her thigh tighter around him and ground his bulge against her wettening heat, giving a little friction to her clit.

Oh god this feels good, (Y/n) thought as she panted for breath. How long has it been since I've felt this good?

At least since before her last boyfriend, so quite a while…

God, whatever that bulge he's got is, it feels good, she thought as her body arched up to him and another needy noise left her.

Sans' mouth returned to hers, his tongue tasting and dancing with hers again as he rocked his pelvis against her and groped at her breast, his phalanges pinching and tugging her nipple.

(Y/n)'s hands moved down his body and pushed up under his shirt, her soft hands sliding over the bare bones of his ribs and the rubbing magic between them, feeling the vibration of the growl that left him at the feeling.

She dragged her nails over him, whimpering and feeling the need flooding her at his reactions.

Her hips arched unconsciously to rub her need swollen center against his stiff bulge.

oh fuck- Sans gasped for air as he felt his sweetheart's hot, soaking pussy rubbing against his cock. sh'feels s'good- oh fuck- oh fuuuck, she feels so gooood!

"ya feel s'fuckun good, sweetheart," he growled, still grinding against her. He could feel the wet softness trying to wrap around him, leaving a wet spot on his shorts that his precum was starting to mix with.

Fuck- she was so soft, so hot, so wet- she felt so good- the sweet, needy little noises she was making sounded so good- he could feel himself actually starting to get close.

Shit! He wanted this to last, and if he was going to have any hope, he was going to have to pull back- but his body did not like that idea.

He was having trouble convincing his body to pull away, until her hands tried to lift his shirt to take it off.

He was snapped back to reality, pulling away and gripping the hem of his shirt, holding it down.

She'd be horrified if she saw the state of his body, all the cracks, calcified scars, and ugly marks marring his bones… Then she'd probably never be able to get over it, and he'd never get this close to her again…

That sobered him up a bit.

"uuuh- s-sorry, sweetheart… i- um… w-we should stop…" Her confused gaze followed him as he moved back to his previous spot where he'd be behind her. "d-didn't mean ta start that outta nowhere," he mumbled, keeping his eyes away from her.

Was he not interested? Maybe because she was a human or something?

There was NO way that was the case! Not with how much he'd kissed her up until this point! Not with how stiff he was…

Was he nervous?

That didn't seem like it should be it; he'd been driving her crazy a moment ago! Confident, knowing what he wanted, definitely seemed to know what he was doing…

But he did have a bit of a glow around his cheeks, which she'd come to recognize as the skeleton version of a blush.

Was he embarrassed?

This was a lot closer than they'd ever gotten to the full monty before, except maybe when he'd had her pressed to the wall in nothing but his coat…

Maybe that was it?

Maybe he was embarrassed for being the one monster attracted to a "disgusting, freaky human".

Uncertainty filled her, twisting in her heart a little, feeling like rejection.

Sans was holding her against his chest again, his body against her back.

She hadn’t wanted to stop. She’d wanted to keep going, just like she had before, except even more this time. Her thighs pressed together and she could feel the way her panties were sticking between her lips, the liquid need soaking the fabric.

Sans felt (Y/n)’s hips shifting as her thighs pressed together.

shit…

He’d had to stop so suddenly that she was probably still all worked up; he sure fucking was…

The smell of her hair in his nasal cavity called to him, the smell of her desire a sweet siren’s song.

“i- can help ya wit that- i-if ya want, sweetheart,” he murmured against the back of her neck with his still need gruffened voice, sending another shiver down her spine. His hips pressed to her, his still present bulge against her ass.

S-should I?

(Y/n) bit her lip. Did she want him to help her with this situation? How did he mean?

Her train of thought was derailed as his tongue trailed up her throat and one hand slid down to her hip, pulling her against his pelvis as he ground against her ass a little.

She moaned and her hips rocked back into him.

“should i take that ‘s a ‘yes’?” He teased, his hand trailing down and lightly tracing shapes over her swollen mound.

A gasp escaped her at the feeling, and he let out a low growl in response.

“should i take that as a yes,” he growled as his fingers slid between her thighs, giving gentle pressure as they traced the crease where her panties were sticking to her.

“fuck…” He breathed, nuzzling against her neck. “all ya gotta do‘s tell me, sweetheart. ‘ll make sure ya have a good time…”

(Y/n) whimpered as he nipped her while her hips squirmed as they tried to get friction from his hand to the right spot.

After another moment, she nodded her head and Sans looked up. “that a yes, doll?” Her hips bucked up against where his fingers were slowly rubbing along her crease, and she gave a near frantic nod in reply.

Sans ran his tongue over his teeth and nipped her throat again, his fingers leaving her pussy to slide down her thigh, rolling her over to her back and now straddling that thigh.

His mouth found hers, the sharp points of his teeth pressing against her lips again as his tongue met hers. His thick femur pressed against her pussy, making her whine needily, while his hand moved back to her breast and groped it, teasing her nipple.

Sans was going slower now, feeling like now that she’d said yes, they had more time and didn’t have to rush.

His hand smoothed down her body, gripping tightly to spots he liked as he made his way to the band of her bottoms, tugging them down around her thighs far enough that he could get his hand inside to touch her, separated only by her soaked panties.

“fuck… y’re so fuckin’ wet,” he groaned against her ear.

(Y/n) felt the shiver move through her belly to her core and nodded to him, eyes closed in embarrassment, breath coming out in pants.

Sans rubbed two phalanges over her, pressing the cloth of her panties against her, feeling the dip where it was stuck to the insides of her lips, and muffled a rough groan with her shoulder.

He pulled his hand away, trailing the tips of his fingers over her thigh, slowly bringing her attention to focus on the sensitive skin he was teasing, taking his time drawing designs over one before dragging his fingers over her very obviously dripping pussy to repeat the teasing on the other thigh.

Over her inner thigh, down to the back of her knee, up to brush under the edge of her panties, running down to draw circles on the sensitive area, giving a grope while he was there. He barely touched her as he ran his fingers up and down her slit before returning to the first thigh, continuing his teasing, all the while filling her ear with the dirtiest words.

“bet that sweet pussy’a yers could drown a man… but whatta way ta go.

“y’re so soft, sweetheart. makes me wanna bury my head down there an’ use yer thighs as pillows all night…”

His fingers ran over her soaking wet panties again, giving a couple of strokes before continuing the trail up, taking his fingers up her belly, dragging her shirt with them and feeling the shiver at the fabric drifting up her body to her breast. He ducked his head down, letting his tongue drag over her soft skin next, following the shiver that came with her gasp, reaching her ribs and nipping as his hand moved over breasts and groped them, massaging her nipples through the fabric as whines left her.

“shit- those noises y’re makin’ are makin’ my cock ache fer ya, sweetheart,” he told her, his hips moving to nudge the rigid length in question against her thigh.

(Y/n) moaned and felt his groan against her nipple in reply.

The way his sharp teeth were so gently pinching and tugging her nipple between them, his tongue swirling around it and leaving the fabric covering it wet and making the way his breath blew over it add a layer of sensation was making her hips arch. The way he squeezed her other breast, fingers rolling and rubbing the nipple between them, drawing sensation all the way through the very tip was making the arching of her hips seem like they were begging for his attention lower. Soft, needy whines left her, the damp fabric that gave just a hint of pressure to her swollen pussy making her a bit desperate.

Sans’ hand slowly trailed down her belly from her breast, his mouth still giving attention to the other, making her body rise to it in a wave as it slid down her.

When his hand reached her soaked core, he softly ran over it, up and down, giving a gentle squeeze at the top that made her squirm and let out a strangled noise.

His tongue made a trail up her throat as he looked up to her face, seeing her face contort in embarrassment every time a noise left her, her eyes still clenched tightly shut. A growl rumbled in his chest as he nipped under her jaw. “ah, damn, sweetheart- ya look so damn pretty right now,” he murmured. “such pretty expressions while i’m playin’ wit yer pussy…”

His fingers rubbed over her, up and down, side to side, making circles as he found what worked best.

Her hips started arching with his hand, chasing his fingers, and he knew that she was starting to get a little desperate from the tiny noises that escaped her, needy little squeaks and whines that made his cock throb and his hips try to buck against her soft thigh.

He held back a growl and gave a tap to the soaked, swollen flesh under his hand, but the way she clutched at him and whimpered in reaction pulled it from him anyway.

His fingers wrapped around the strip of fabric stuck her, tugging it away and sliding the backs of his phalanges against her dripping core, pulling her panties down to where her bottoms rested on her thighs so he could have unfettered access to her.

“ya gonna make more pretty lil noises fer me, sweetheart?” He asked as he teased his fingers over her.

She squeaked and nodded as her intense expression deepened.

“good girl,” he rumbled against her ear, dipping a finger between her folds, immediately rewarded with a needy gasp.

Sans let his finger move over her, down to her opening and teasing it, then up to her where her clit was begging for attention from its spot among her swollen folds as he learned her anatomy.

He'd never been with a human before, but he hadn't been a virgin for quite a long while, and he had delved into human porn, wondering what the attraction of their soft, squishy bodies was, and… he'd even found a section of it that was dedicated to monster/human videos, even though there were only a few, so he had more of an idea of what he was doing than he would have fresh to the surface, luckily.

Sans let the heel of his palm press against where her clit was nestled, letting his fingers circle and rub over her tight hole until he slowly let one slide in.

(Y/n) let out a needy, squeaky whine as she felt the bones penetrate her, their smoothness a different feeling than she was used to.

He slid his finger out, replacing it with the next, letting it slide in slowly as well.

He couldn't believe how soft she was there.

She was pressing around his phalange, so warm, so wet, so tight… almost feeling like the sandy mud had the time he'd drunkenly slipped on the bank of the river in Waterfall and had to wrestle himself free.

When he pulled out this time, he pushed both phalanges into her, letting them wander and feel, exploring until he found a particular spot that made her squeal.

"mmm, that spot good fer ya, sweetheart?" He rumbled, rubbing his fingers over it.

"Nnnn!" She nodded as her breath grew quicker.

Sans' grin grew wider, his tongue flicking over his teeth as he nuzzled against the tender skin behind her ear.

The rumble of a chuckle sent shivers down her spine as he continued rubbing his fingers inside her, the rough side sliding over a spot so delicious she gripped tighter to his shirt, and the smoother side rubbed against the sensitive ring of muscles while his palm pressed and rubbed at her clit.

"mmm… stars, sweetheart," he groaned into her ear, his low voice dripping lewd thought, "look at ya… that look on yer gorgeous face… such a sweet noise y’re makin’...” He grunted against her, his hips shifting and grinding against her thigh in time with his finger’s thrusting.

Sans’ hand went through different motions until he found a way to press his palm against her clit while letting his fingers move faster in and out of her. Her hands tightened on his shirt as she arched, a needy squeak drawing from her.

“fuck… tha’s it, sweetheart,” he panted against her, his hot breath brushing over the sensitive skin of her neck. “arch those hips ‘gainst my hand… c’mon, dollface…”

(Y/n) was gasping for breath, hanging onto his shirt for dear life as she neared the edge, and the sexy sound of him panting and groaning in her ear only helped to push her closer.

Sans was getting close, the softness of her thigh surprisingly efficient at getting him off. “c-c’mon- ngh, c’mon, f-fuck… ya- ya gotta- ngh- f-fuckin’ come fer me, sweetheart,” he ordered, his hand speeding up in its motions.

(Y/n) fell over the edge with a squeak of ecstasy, hearing Sans’ breath matching hers and coming out in quickening pants as his hand moved faster, fucking into her with wild abandon as his hips were almost bucking against her, both gasping for breath.

“s- so f- fuckin’ good, c- comin’ on m’ ha-and, sweetheart-” he told her, his hips grinding needily against her. He groaned into her as she whined his name with a squeak, his tongue licking over her and teeth nipping under her jaw, until he felt a shiver move through her inner muscles and she came again, tossing her head back with a harsh, but quiet cry as she tightened around his fingers again, tighter this time. “f-fffffffuuuuuucccck,” he growled as he came, his magic spilling and immediately soaking through his shorts. “ungh, (y/n),” he moaned against her, his tongue licking up her throat, nuzzling and nipping there, too, as his hand still gripped and pet at her, his pelvis giving soft jerks.

shit… Realization hit Sans as they both panted to catch their breath. i fuckin’ jus’ came all over ‘er leg… fuckin’ embarrissin’…

He drew out his touch, softly stroking her before he drew his hand back, resting it, coincidentally, on the spot he’d cum, hoping that her wetness would hide his own. He nuzzled under her ear and nipped gently. “be right back, sweetheart,” he told her, climbing from the bed and grabbing a pair of shorts from the ground as he stumbled out to the bathroom, quickly cleaning himself up and putting on the other pair of dirty shorts before bringing back a damp cloth to clean her up with.

She was sensitive, and he teased her by giving tiny little nips around her thighs and hips as he cleaned her, managing to tug her still wet panties off and toss them off the bed before letting her lift her hips and pull her bottoms up.

Sans pulled her against him after tossing the cloth away somewhere, burying his nasal ridge in her hair. “mmm, fuck, sweetheart, tha’ wuz beautiful…”

They were both worn out from the activities, and also from the strength of their orgasms after so long without, quickly falling asleep.

A/N: Really Sans- all over her thigh! Messy! .

@tephi101 @lilypalmer1987 @pingu89 @gifsbysimplysonia @omnomsauruswrites<3U! @keldachick @Randomfandompenguin @mannls @screeching-student-unknown @lizfawn @ya-lyublu-tebya @their-bibliophile @the-fifth-marauder03

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hookedonapirate · 4 years

Text

Accidentally On Purpose

Summary: They shared one incredible night together five months ago, and after she disappeared from his life without a trace, except for the intoxicating scent on her pillow, he never thought he'd see her again.

That is until his colleague, David, sets him up on a blind date with his sister.

When fate brings them together again, she's full of surprises. Two to be exact.

A/N: This is something I've been working on, but I have no idea what inspired me to write this, it's just a concept I've been wanting to write that popped into my head quite randomly. This will most likely be a 2 or 3 parter, depending on the muse. She holds the reins here, I just do what she tells me to do lol.

Thank you @onceuponaprincessworld for looking it over and for your feedback!!!

Catch up: pt 1

Also on: Ao3 I FF.N

Rated: M

Part 2

The sound of her name yanks Emma abruptly from her thoughts, and she shudders at the way the British accent slides through her like smooth silk. “That’s me,” she replies and scoots off the stool, grabbing her things. He sounds familiar; she would never forget a voice or an accent like that, but she can't seem to place the voice with a face. Until she turns around and sees who her date is.

Fuck.

Emma’s jaw slackens, her face drains of color and cold sweat beads across her forehead.

“You’re Emma?”

Unable to form words at the moment, she manages a nod.

“I’m Killian.”

Holy mother of—

“You’re Killian?” she asks dumbly, unwilling to believe it. But she knows very well it’s him. She’d never forget that face. That messy, black hair. Those impossibly blue eyes. Those lips. God, those lips were so firm and demanding and loving when he kissed every inch of her body. And the tongue she can detect as his mouth hangs open. That wicked, yet exquisitely soft tongue worked miracles on her.

He nods. “Well… this is awkward,” he chuckles lightly, scratching behind his ear.

He has no idea exactly how awkward it is. He hasn’t put together the pieces yet.

She scoffs. “Yeah, considering I'm much fatter than I was when we first saw each other.”

“You're not fat, you're carrying twins.” He offers her a rose and a smile. “You look stunning.”

Her cheeks flush and her heart flutters as she takes the rose, bringing it to her nose to draw in its scent. While the gesture is very sweet, it makes her realize she can't do this, just like she couldn't do this the last time when she woke up next to him.

She wants to take off running, something she's very good at, except for when she's pregnant. So even if she could move her feet, which now feel they've been super-glued to the floor, she wouldn't be able to run, at least not fast enough to outrun him if he chased her after her.

The maitre d’ gives them a moment of reprieve when she leads them to a table. A cozy, secluded table in the far corner of the restaurant. Falling behind Killian, Emma’s eyes shit to the emergency exit which isn’t very far from where she is. She could sneak over and dash through the door before Killian knows she’s gone, not without setting off the alarm though. But did she really want to risk missing an opportunity here? The father of her unborn children is directly in front of her. This is her chance to rectify the situation. Question is, did she really want to?

Placing a hand on her belly, she proceeds to the table. Things are different now. Every decision she makes affects her little ducklings, so she has to think about them and how her choices will ultimately affect them.

Yes, she’s doing this for them.

Killian pulls out a chair for her, and she sits down, thanking him with a faint smile. He claims the seat across from her as the maitre d’ leaves the table.

Part of her is hoping he won’t put the pieces together, because while she’s thinking of her children, she also has to think of him and how the truth might completely change and possibly ruin his life. And at least now, she’ll be able to tell her children their father’s name.

Ugh, she is so conflicted and confused.

~*~

Killian's not sure what to think when he discovers David’s sister is the same woman who ran out of the motel room and out of his life. The woman who left him with an empty side of the bed, her scent on the pillow, an empty feeling in his heart and fond memories of the previous night.

He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about that night, how good her legs felt wrapped around his waist, how good she tasted—her soft mouth when he kissed her, her lovely skin and warm nectar bursting on his tongue when he licked between her thighs. Even before they left for the motel, he couldn’t remember the last time he had so much fun. Probably never.

David was right; she’s definitely a feisty lass. Their banter and teasing jabs drew him in even more, but her laugh… God, her laugh was so enchanting he wanted to spend his entire life making her laugh just to hear that wonderful sound tumble from her lips over and over again. She's also beautiful and intoxicating, and her skin was so warm and silky that night as he brushed his knuckles over her cheek. She was so responsive to his touch. His mouth went dry, and he wanted to make her laugh again, he wanted to make her fall apart in his arms.

He rarely picked up women at the bar, nor did he hook up with women he barely knew in a motel room, but he was incredibly attracted to her the second she walked into the establishment. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on, still is, and she appeared to be alone, so the decision to buy her a drink was an easy one. He sent it her way, and the rest was history.

Later on, he asked her if she wanted to get out of there. But he wouldn’t have been brave enough to ask if he hadn’t witnessed the want in her eyes, the way she flirted with him, if he hadn’t felt the way her warm palm found his thigh underneath the table, the way she stroked him so close to where he was already very excited and very hard. He’d never left a table so quickly when she agreed to meet him at a nearby motel. She had to use the ladies' room to freshen up or whatever lasses usually did in the restroom. Reckoning she’d be too stubborn to let him pay for the entire bill himself, he took the opportunity to leave for the motel to reserve a room while she was in the restroom.

He returned to the bar to walk her to the motel in the dark, and sure enough, she tried to reimburse him for half, but he refused. He invited her, so he could not in good conscience allow her to give him anything for the room. Well, she would give him something, just nothing of monetary value. She gave him many things that night; she gave herself to him; she gave him the best several orgasms he’s ever experienced, with her hand, her mouth and her very warm and very tight cunt wrapped gloriously around his cock. She gave him a night of passion and ecstasy; she gave him a night to remember.

They could barely contain themselves as they walked to the room. As soon as they were behind closed doors, their lips connected, they tore off each other's clothes and made love with raging-hot hunger, moans, heavy breaths mingling and filthy words filling the room. She buried her fingers in his hair as he buried himself inside her , and she tugged on his hair every time he filled her to the hilt. They were too far gone to savor and taste each other thoroughly the first time.

So once he caught his breath, once his desire and sweat had cooled, only slightly, he traced and kissed every dip and curve of her body with curiosity and fascination, worshipping her properly as she explored him with greedy fingers. When he settled between her thighs, parting them for easy access to her entrance, she reached for him, fisting locks of his hair as he licked up the sweet evidence of what he had done to her. What they had done to each other. They went three rounds before their bodies collapsed, before they were completely sapped, and sleep seeped into his bones as her head rested on his chest. She was so sexy, demanding and irresistible and they’d thoroughly worn each other out. When he woke the next morning, he'd been looking forward to a fourth round with the gorgeous blonde goddess who'd shifted his world off its axis in merely a night, so when he reached out for her, he was incredibly disappointed to find her gone.

Needless to say, it was an incredible night. In fact, it was probably the best night of his entire life.

Unfortunately, Emma doesn’t appear to feel the same. She doesn't seem too happy to see him. He guesses she might be a tad embarrassed because she ran out on him after that night. She could leave right now if she wanted to, but she’s not, so perhaps it’s a good sign. Or perhaps she’s only being polite.

She looks afraid for some reason as she peruses the menu, like she’d seen a ghost. Not afraid of him, but afraid of something. She’s biting her bottom lip as if she’s warring with herself about something. She did the same thing when he asked her to leave with him that night. Does she feel guilty about going on a date while she’s pregnant? Single mothers have needs too, so she shouldn’t feel bad or guilty. Just like she shouldn’t feel bad or guilty about the night they shared five months ago.

Five terrible months. Five months.

A thought suddenly slams into his brain, and his mouth goes dry. They were together five months ago. And Emma's five months pregnant.

Could he be…

His face pales and his throat closes up.

No, it’s not possible, is it?

Emma looks up, seeing the awestruck expression on his face. She senses he’s putting the pieces together.

Oh.

He is the father. That’s why she’s so conflicted. Isn’t it?

“So, uh…” he stumbles for words as he scratches behind his ear. “Do you… do you know who the…”

“Who the father is?”

“Aye.”

~*~

Emma’s not sure what to tell him. Should she tell him the truth? She takes a deep breath and sets down the menu, placing her hands in her lap as her eyes bore into his. She could, but she wants to gauge how he’ll react before she even decides whether to tell him or not. “No, you’re not.”

She thinks he’ll be relieved, but wait… is he disappointed? She can see the disappointment flicker in his eyes.

Fuck.

Now he probably thinks she's a slut who sleeps with random strangers all the time. Why can’t she just tell him? Why can’t she just break through the walls of fear preventing her from telling him? A big part of her wants to, but another part of her doesn't want to ruin tonight. Because once she tells him, the rest of the night will be weird and awkward and she’s not sure it’s the best time.

The best time?

She can just hear Mary Margaret screaming at her right now.

He’s the father of your children, Emma! Grow some balls and tell the man!

Or would her sister-in-law tell her to wait until the end of the night, until after she’s released some stress. But that would be so wrong—to get her fix first and then drop a huge, atomic bomb on him.

“So, um… can I ask what happened to the father?” he asks, scratching behind his ear again. “I was just curious… any man would be a fool to walk away from a woman like you and those babies.”

Emma’s cheeks warm as she gives him a weak smile.

Well shit.

“I just… um, I’d rather not talk about it,” Emma says firmly.

“As you wish, love.”

So they don’t discuss it. The server arrives to take their orders, and Emma thinks of other things to talk about, like the weather or their jobs, or anything else to avoid telling him he’s the father.

“Can I ask you something else, Emma?”

Crap.

She can tell by the tone in his voice and the look on his face, she’s not going to like his question.

But still, she nods and takes another sip of water.

“Do you not want to do this?”

The question takes her off guard a little. She sets down her glass, seeing the insecurities flashing in his eyes. He’s afraid she'll run again. “Do what?”

He gestures between them. “ This. Do you regret showing up, since it turns out I’m your date?”

“I… um,” she gulps, fumbling for the right words to say. She reaches over and takes his hands in hers. “Look, Killian… it’s not that I didn't enjoy our night together, because I did.” A small smile curves her lips. “In fact, I enjoyed it so much, I got scared. I was afraid if I stayed, I’d end up falling for you. I was afraid I’d end up getting my heart broken because it’s happened before. I’m kind of damaged goods.”

“Thanks for your honesty, Emma,” he says appreciatively as he pulls his hands away, “but you didn’t answer my question. Do you regret agreeing to this blind date?”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t. Do you?”

He has a stoic expression on his face. “Aye.”

Emma’s heart drops. She feels like she's just been drop-kicked in the stomach. “Oh.”

He holds up his hand, his Adam's Apple bobbing as he speaks. “I spent the last five months wondering if I’d ever see you again, I spent five months thinking about the night we shared, I dreamed about you constantly, I wondered if we’d ever run into each other again or what I'd say to you if we did. I barely know you and yet you turned my entire world upside down. And now that you’re right in front of me, you’re… you’re pregnant with another man’s children and you…” his voice cracks, “you agreed to this date thinking you'd be going out with a man who wasn't me. You were willing to go to a restaurant, have a pleasant conversation over dinner with the possibility of something more, even though you’re five months pregnant. You were willing to endure something uncomfortable, something a bit awkward just so you could engage in more enjoyable activities later on.”

What the fuck?

Killian doesn't appear to be happy; his jaw tightens as he pulls out some cash from his wallet and throws it on the table. “You were able to endure all of this for some man you never met before, someone your sister-in-law and brother set you up with, and yet you weren't willing to endure an awkward morning-after with a man who already showed you, what I thought was a very good time. You didn't have the decency to at least wake me up with a kiss and say goodbye before you left.”

Oh wow, he really is pissed.

Killian stands up, tucking his wallet inside of his jacket pocket. “You were afraid of getting hurt, and yet you hurt me after only one night of being with me.” The look he regards her with makes her shiver. It makes her heart crack. “So yes, I regret going on a date with someone who wouldn't bother to stick around for even one morning after they had their fill.”

Emma never expected this, she never expected he would be the one to up and leave. As she watches him go in heated silence, she realizes she’s once again losing the opportunity to have this man be in her life. In her children’s lives. She’s letting him slip away from her fingers once again.

No, not this time.

~*~

Killian can't believe this. The amount of pain he feels is indescribable. Unbearable. Sure, he knew what he was signing up for when he took her—a woman whose name he didn’t know—to a motel room. He asked for her name but she responded by asking him, what fun would that be? He went along by saying they were just two ships passing in the night. So he wasn't stupid or naive, but still… he never thought she'd leave him high and dry the second she woke, nor did he think it would be so easy for her to move on with her life like he was nothing but a good lay. That's all he was to her. A good lay.

His blood bubbles as the reality of it all sinks in, and he can't breathe. His heart fucking hurts, and he can’t make it stop, as much as he wants it to. Reaching his car, he hauls the door open, desperate to leave and go home so he can drown his sorrows in a bottle of rum.

“Killian, wait!”

He freezes, his hand clenched around the door, his jaw tightening as he hears her heels click across the pavement.

He stands there, waiting for her to approach him, debating whether to leave. Whether to listen to what she has to say or try to forget about her.

Like that could ever happen.

“Killian,” she wheezes, out of breath when she reaches him. “You’re right, I’m an asshole, I should've stayed. I should’ve given us a chance, but I didn’t. And I can't take that back, all I can do is not let go of that opportunity again. All I can do is tell you the truth and make things right.”

“The truth about what?” he demands, turning around to face her.

Emma peers down as she fidgets with her fingers. “So um, what I’m about to tell you is um… well, I don’t want you to think I’m expecting anything from you at all, I just…” She looks up at him, and his breath catches when her stunning green eyes connect with his blue ones. “I want to make that perfectly clear.”

I'm the father, aren't I?

Killian’s heart feels like it’s about to explode. He's the father of the babies growing inside her. And suddenly the anger inside him turns into something else. Knowing he might be the father of these twins makes him hopeful.

Wait. Twins.

Reality slams into him, turning his face pale. “So um… I’m the…” he swallows the large lump in his throat.

She reaches for him, sensing his anxiety, and takes his hands in hers. “Yes, you’re the father, but as I said, I don’t expect anything from you. That’s why I didn't tell you at first. I didn't want to bombard you with any obligations. I didn’t want to wreck your life.”

“Right…” he murmurs, trying to process this as he releases her hands. “I’m sorry, I just need a minute to myself. I promise not to run away this time.”

She nods in understanding. “Take all the time you need.”

She heads back inside, leaving him at a loss for what to do. It was different when she told him he wasn’t the father, but now that he knows he is, he can't turn his back on her and the twins.

Bloody hell.

He’s a father. To twins.

Killian’s head is spinning as he drags his hands through his hair, sucking in the fresh air through his nostrils. She said she expected nothing from him, but he’s not about to abandon her or the babies. Those are his babies too. And he’s not about to let her raise them by herself with a monthly child support check as his only contribution. No, he can’t do that. He doesn’t even know Emma, but they can change that. If the night he met her was any indication, despite the fact she left him, then they could make this work. The chemistry was there, the attraction, the connection. And it wasn’t just physical. They had some great conversations and good laughs. Maybe he can give this a shot, maybe they can make this work. Or at least try. If things end up not working out between them, he can at least share custody with the twins, right? He has to let her know she’s not alone in this. No matter what happens between them.

Killian takes another deep breath, drawing in the courage to face her again before heading inside.

~*~

Emma’s not sure what to think. Did he leave, or is he considering what she told him? She doesn’t blame him either way. She’s had time to process this, she’s had a little over four months to figure out what to do, what steps to take.

When she saw the two pink lines, she was in tears. How in the world was she going to raise a baby? She was living in her brother's guestroom for crying out loud. And she was always chasing her next mark. But there was no way she was giving up her baby. Being a foster kid and bouncing around from one home to another until David’s family finally adopted her, she wasn’t about to put her baby through that. Then she found out she was having twins and even though it completely flipped her world upside down, she wasn’t about to change her mind. She was doing this, father or not; she would raise these babies and give them the love and home they needed, even if she had to do it at her brother’s place.

She didn’t want David and Mary Margaret to feel obligated to help her raise the twins, but they’d assured her they didn’t mind. They knew how to raise a child, and they weren’t about to send Emma off to live on the streets, especially with twin babies. She agreed, but not without promising them and herself she’d start looking for a place of her own once she saved enough money to afford it.

So she can understand having to take some time to think and process all of this.

Her question of whether or not he left, is finally answered when he returns to the table, completely wrecked and out of breath.

“Are you um… are you okay?” Stupid question because why would he be okay? She just dropped a bomb on him.

He reclaims his seat across from her, his eyes meeting hers. “I’m uh… I mean, I‘m just shocked, if you can imagine...”

Emma manages a small laugh. “Yes, I can definitely imagine.”

He takes a sip of the tea he tried to pay for but never touched. He thought it would be impolite to order alcohol and drink it in front of her since she couldn’t have any. Emma learned quickly he’s considerate like that.

She reaches into her purse for the cash he had left on the table. She hid it to save their table and told the waitress they’d be back, desperately hoping they would be. “Here.” She hands over the cash. “Dinner is on me… if you’ll still have dinner with me. It’s the least I can do after what I did to you.”

He puts up his hand, refusing it. “Nonsense, Emma, I’ll still have dinner with you, but I’ll foot the bill. It’s the least I can do for knocking you up.”

Her lips tip into a slight smirk as she lays the cash on the table. “If I recall, it was just as much my fault as it was yours.”

He blushes, his face finally cracking a smile. This is good. He’s able to smile despite how real this situation became for him.

“Would you like to see them?” she asks, still clutching onto her purse.

His brows furrow in confusion. “See what?”

She laughs. “The twins, silly.”

His eyes light up, excitement dancing over his handsome features. “You have the sonogram with you?”

She nods. “Yep.” She pulls it out of her purse and hands it to him. “This was at twelve weeks when I found out they’re fraternal.” She smirks. “Not only did your little swimmers get one of my eggs, they got two.”

A big smile takes over his face as he studies the picture in fascination. “What can I say, love, my little swimmers are overachievers.”

Emma snorts. “You can say that again.”

“Do you know the genders?”

She shakes her head. “I’ll find out during my next appointment. It’s on the 20th if you’d like to come.”

He looks up from the sonogram, still donning a smile. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

His features become serious again, and he takes a deep, shaky breath and reaches across the table, taking her hand in his free one. “Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. I’ll go with you to the doctor’s appointments and parenting classes, I’ll go out and buy you food when you’re having late-night cravings and I’ll give you foot and shoulder rubs when you’re achy. Whatever I can do to help you feel as comfortable as possible, I’ll do it. And I’ll be there when you’re in labor, I’ll bring you to the hospital and I’ll stay by your side the entire thing, okay? And after that, I want to be involved… as much as you’ll allow me to be. They’re my babies too, and I can’t just walk away to let you raise them by yourself.”

Emma’s kind of shocked, but she shouldn’t be. She knew Killian was a good man; she knew it the night she met him, but after he got so upset and told her he regretted this date, she thought he wouldn’t want anything to do with her, whether he was the father or not. “Really?”

He nods. “Really.”

Hope warms her heart as she gazes at Killian from across the table. This man was devastated when she left him and is now offering to do everything he can to help her and the babies. Their babies.

“We don’t have to discuss all the logistics right now, it’s only our first date after all,” he says with a smirk. “But I want you to know I’m committed to this. I want to be a part of the twins’ lives.”

“So, we’re doing this… together?”

He nods, his eyes twinkling with hope. “Aye, we’re doing this.”

Her eyes sting with tears, and she smiles, trying to fight them away, but one escapes, sliding down her cheek. The twins will have a daddy. A father who will love and cherish them.

Killian sets down the sonogram to brush his knuckles along her cheek, wiping the tear away with his thumb. Her breath catches, her heart fluttering as she closes her eyes, nuzzling her cheek into his touch. The same gentle touch she’d felt that night... before they left for the motel. She’s putty in his hands, just like she was then.

“Do you want to get out of here, love?”

Emma opens her eyes, taken aback by the question.

“We can have our dinners boxed up and take them to my place? I think you’ll find it’s more comfortable there. Besides, if we’re spending time together, don’t you think we should get to know each other a little first… you know just to make sure we got along.”

Emma smirks. “I don’t know, we got along pretty well five months ago. We got along so well in fact…” she sits back and places her hands on her belly, “this happened.”

He chuckles, a pink blush painting his cheeks. He’s so fucking adorable; she doesn’t understand how she walked away from this guy five months ago. What the hell was she thinking?

When the server approaches their table, Killian asks her to box up their meals, and she returns with a big sack. Killian pays for their dinner and rises, extending his hand to Emma. She smiles and grabs her rose and purse before slipping her hand in his.

Emma had a ton of doubts about tonight. A ton of insecurities and a laundry list of reasons why this date was a terrible idea. But now she has hope. So much hope. And Killian lets her know there are no expectations for tonight. And she’s glad because while she could really use a night to relieve some stress, while she’s still feeling a bit turned on even after the very serious and very real discussion they had, she wants to take things slow with Killian. She knows how ridiculous that sounds, considering they’ve already had sex and are having babies together, but she owes Killian a proper morning-after.

So after eating dinner on his comfortable sofa, after he gives her the shoulder and foot massages he’d promised, they slip into his bed together. But instead of making love, Killian wraps his arms around her and just holds her. And when he feels the twins kicking under his palms, he tells her it’s the most incredible feeling he’s ever experienced. And that’s saying something, considering the night they were together five months ago was the best night of his life. Until tonight. Now it’s a very close second considering they are reunited and having a baby together (which is scary, really scary, but at least Emma’s not doing this alone; she’s doing this with him). Nothing will compare to the birth of their twin babies though.

In the morning Emma wakes up before he does, but instead of running away (as if she could run anyway) she surprises him with a kiss on the forehead and a fresh cup of coffee.

And she smiles, knowing this is just the beginning of something good. Something really good.

#cs ff #cs smut #captain swan #accidentally on purpose #my fic

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whirlybirbs · 5 years

Photo

— tenderly feral, ii.

summary: you are starting to trust daryl, but neither of you trust alexandria. pairing: daryl dixon x female!reader rating: t for violence, references to murder/assault/loss, s5 spoilers, if that matters. word count: 2.3k a/n: set mid-season 5. this is shorter, but there’s some bonding + touching, so pls enjoy daryl & boston becoming closer and closer. also, @thatdamnokie made a playlist for this fic and i cannot say enough good things about it. please give it a listen!

✘ previous chapter. ✘ next chapter. ✘

Deanna seems... nice.

All of this seems nice. Too nice.

Like a dream.

(You’re waiting for the twist; when does this dream turn into a nightmare? When does someone pull a gun, force you to your knees, and pull the trigger?)

The floorboards creak under your boots as you move through the living room, eyes drawing up the walls decorated with wallpaper and photos and curtains and... life. This home is full it, bursting at the seams with it. It smells like vanilla and laundry. Outside, the birds chirp and the sun filters in through the windows to dance on the carpet.

It feels like some sick joke.

“Do you mind if I film this?”

You swallow, lashes kissing your cheeks as you blink away your cynicism. Your head swivels, flying to find Deanna standing in the doorway. There’s a creeping feeling under your skin; it’s a mix of distrust and confusion and fear...

“Who are you?”

“I could ask the same of you,” she says softly, settling in, “So sit. And we’ll talk.”

So you do.

✘

You leave the house after an hour.

A shaky breath falls from your lips as you pull the door shut and find Daryl lingering on the porch. He turns, cigarette hanging between his fingers as you wring your own hands. Blue eyes slip along your form, eyeing your posture and expression -- worry flashes across his face like a lightning strike.

(He’d been waiting close by. Didn’t wanna leave you alone. Not with some stranger. Not in some... house. Daryl doesn’t trust this. You don’t either. He can see it on your face.)

“You okay?”

His voice is a rumble. Like thunder on a humid night.

“M’fine,” you breathe, stepping forward. The others watch the exchange from the lawn. You move to pass but slow up, letting your shoulder touch his. After a beat, your raise your chin you speak lowly, “Be nice.”

His lip quirks. Like a snarl. He flicks his cigarette off the porch and drops his head. He exhales a laugh.

He’s last to go.

“Me?” he croaks, brushing by, “M’ always nice.”

✘

“What did you do?” Deanna had asked, “Before all this?”

Your lip had twitched. You had fussed in your seat, crossing your legs and leaning forward and shaking your head. The look on your face, at that moment, was steeped in an emotion shaken and stirred with nostalgic regret. You scratched your brow as your mouth moved... but, nothing came out.

So, Deanna waited.

Your eyes traced the pattern in the rug for the hundredth time.

Then, you cleared your throat and spoke.

“I was a teacher.”

✘

Rick insists on sleeping in the same house tonight, together.

While everyone begins to hunker down, you poke around the house. It’s nice, something that would go for a million in the suburbs outside of Boston. It’s got a lotta space and good lighting and better bones.

Michonne catches you in the upstairs bedroom. She leans in the doorway, head tilting as she watches you fleet from wall to wall. When she does speak, her voice is soft. You jump.

“There’s a change of clothes in the dresser,” she says, “Should fit you... and the shower’s open.”

You blink at her. Shock draws up your brows.

“Shower?”

A nod.

“... Hot water?”

Michonne just smiles.

(The paint in the bathroom reminds you of your cousin’s house. Heron grey.)

You spend a good hour in there -- scrubbing and washing and grinning ear-to-ear for the first time since this whole thing went down. The shampoo smells like a life you lived before and when you step out into the steam of the bathroom, you can almost pretend the world is normal again. The towel is soft and the air is warm and your happily pull on the pair of jeans and sweater that Michonne had laid out.

You pad downstairs, face happy and eyes heavier.

Daryl is in the kitchen, poking around for a snack, when you wander in.

You smell like... fruit. Flowers and fruit.

He squints.

“You clean up nice.”

He means it.

You snort through your nose and snake around the counter. There’s a basket of fruit there -- so you pluck an apple from the bunch and move to lean against the marble island. Daryl, still dirty and still fussing, continues to dig through the cabinets.

“You gonna shower?” you ask after a few bites of the apple.

“Nah,” he spits, “Later.”

You roll your eyes. Daryl catches it. He drops his crossbow on the counter with a rattle and hops up, legs swinging. You move closer, crossing the kitchen to lean against the counter next to him and look out the window above the sink. In the next room, the chatter of the group washes out the silence.

You raise the apple, offering it.

The moon hangs high in the sky.

He takes it, bites, and hands it back.

“Think we’ll stay?”

“Dunno,” Daryl mumbles, “... I dunno.”

You just nod and chew your apple.

✘

“We have a school,” Deanna had explained, “And we need teachers. Our children... they’re our future.”

You fell quiet, arms wrapping around yourself as your knee bounces.

It hurts to remember your classroom -- to remember your kids, your coworkers, your school. When things got bad, FEMA rolled in and made it a shelter, but with no National Guard left for stationing and a rampant looting problem spreading through the city, things went south fast. Those children... your chest aches to think about where they are now. If... If they are... if they just are.

“I know that.”

“Will you help?” she asked, “Teach them? Math, art, science, history... anything.”

“I taught fourth grade.”

Deanna smiled at you like you were the sun, then.

And you felt sick.

✘

The living room is full.

There’s a roof over your head and food in your belly and a pillow under your head. You’re safe, as safe as you probably could be. Behind two feet thick steel walls and the four more that make up this damn Alexandria mansion. Rick and Michonne and Daryl are here. Glenn is here. Maggie, Sasha, Carol... Everyone.

Except Tyreese, except Beth.

But, you’re here. And you’re safe.

And still, you can’t sleep.

You roll, hips complaining from the position you’d taken up in the corner. The blanket around your shoulders is warm, and falls around your waist as you sit up, hair wild, and sigh.

Daryl, still perched at his spot by the window, can see the frustration written on your face from across the room.

Your eyes catch his, and he speaks softly.

“Wanna go for a walk?”

✘

You wrap your arms close around you, steps falling in line with Daryl’s as you sniffle and shiver a bit. It’s getting colder now with autumn creeping in -- it’s not as cold as Boston, though, so you suppose you’re thankful. The first winter there was miserable; the walkers froze solid, so it was safer, but with no heat and no food?

You were as good as frozen.

The sound of a pack of coyotes baying in the distance brings you back.

Alexandria is quiet -- the only lights come from the moon overhead and the candles glowing in windows here and there. The tops of the trees bleed into the horizon like ink in water. It’s peaceful, air filled with peepers and crickets and the kiss of the wind in the trees.

Daryl’s hands are shoved in his pockets.

His breath, glowing in the cold, curls around him as he speaks.

“... She give you a job?”

You’re quiet for a while after he asks. As Daryl walks, he watches your face out of the corner of his eye. You’re thinking -- your face is warped into a look he’s never seen before. It’s heavy with concentration. But not on the conversation.

Once you hit the end of the block, you shrug.

“Yeah,” you mutter, “She did.”

Daryl blinks up at the stars. Tries to play off his interest.

“Somethin’ good?”

“Somethin’ I used t’ do.”

His brow lifts. “Before all this?”

“Yeah,” you parrot with a lack of substance, “Before all this.”

His head falls. His hair is in his eyes when he stops short and looks at you.

“Why?”

Your nose scrunches.

“Why what?” You keep walking.

Daryl hops to catch up.

“Why th’ whole...” he gestures at you, “... Why’re y’ mad?”

“I’m not mad,” you mumble as you walk, shaking your head. You turn to catch his eyes. In the light of the moon, he seems more boyish than before. A little worried, a little scared. You slow down to let him catch up fully. “It’s just scary. I don’t... I don’t trust all this.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, “Neither do I.”

“That why you weren’t sleeping?”

Daryl nods. You hum.

“You?”

You laugh bitterly as you round another corner, shoulders brushing his. “I’m just... I haven’t slept in a house in... months, maybe. Not one where I didn’t have to keep an eye open, or... Or one where I knew I was... safe. But, I don’t know that. I don’t know that I’m safe. I want it to be true, but...”

“But, we don’t know.”

You cross your arms tighter and inhale as you stop, facing him fully. He takes pause, too, and rocks on his boots. As your eyes scale him, his drop. He shrinks, then, toeing the pavement.

“What did you do,” you ask then, spurred by a moment of wonder, “Before all this?”

Silence is the response. Then, he reaches and digs out a cigarette from his vest.

“Does it matter?”

His lighter clinks open, then closed. His face is illuminated by the embers of the Marlboro.

“It did,” you shake your head, eyes glimmering with exhaustion and sadness, “To them.”

“I was nobody,” he chirps, wetting his lips and shrugging. He turns on his heel. You follow, “Nobody.”

“You were somebody to someone,” you mumble, not complaining when his arm brushes yours. He’s heading back to the house, “Right?”

He dodges the question, fast and hard. “What about you, huh? Before shit went down, what’d y’ do?”

“Fourth grade.”

“What?” he squints.

“I taught,” you laugh a little, dry and sad, “I taught fourth grade.”

Daryl slows up, for a second, and lets his face soften. He can see it now -- you, showered and in fresh clothes and looking happier. He could see you, wrangling in a bunch a’ screaming kids. Teachin’ math, or arts ‘n’ crafts. He can see you being not-so-feral. Reading along, recess duty, and PTA meetings.

You note the expression on his face. Yours warps into one of sheepishness.

“What?”

“Nothin’,” he chirps quietly, taking a drag of his cigarette, “I can see it, s’all.”

“You can see it?” you jab, knocking his arm, “What’s that mean?”

Daryl just shrugs. And you let the ghost of a smile play on your lips.

As he makes his way up the steps, you linger. He takes note and leans against the porch beam.

“Y’know,” he rasps, “This is th’ most you’ve ever talked, but you ain’t sayin’ much.”

You guess he’s right.

So, you follow him inside.

✘

“Your friend outside... Daryl, is it...?”

You pulled up your gaze from the carpet, a soft look flickering there. Deanna saw it. It brought a smile to her face, then, and she nodded knowingly -- her hands were knotted as she spoke.

“Is that what you are...?” she asked, “Friends...?”

You felt like you’d got cottonmouth.

“... Why don’t you ask him that?”

“Oh,” she laughed, “I will. But... I have a feeling he’s gonna give me a run for my money, isn’t he?”

“... He saved my life.”

“You owe him,” she spoke quickly, “Or... you... feel like you do?”

“Maybe.”

She hummed.

And you let that hit you like a ton of bricks.

✘

“Quit squirmin’.”

You’re tossing and turning and it’s not until you’ve accidentally elbowed Daryl twice in five minutes that he speaks up. The whisper falls on your ears with a pointed edge, weighed with the bleariness of sleep. The archer kicks his legs then, rolling to look at you from over his shoulder.

You groan, palming at your eyes as you roll flat on your back and huff.

You croak out an apology.

Daryl exhales, making a point of his sleep-driven irritation, before he rolls back over to face the wall.

He, however, does not go back to sleep. Instead, he stares at the wall and thinks.

Daryl Dixon does a lot of thinking -- might not show, but he does. He sure as hell doesn’t speak his mind, but the man works things out up top before he acts. He’s grown past firing from the hip... most of the time. Doesn’t mean he doesn't get angry or frustrated or violent. Just means he’s careful.

And right now, he’s got a lot on his mind.

Your breathing never evens out -- it’s still shallow and you’re still fussing. So, Daryl decides it’s in his best interest to do something. Y’know, so you won’t keep him up and he can get some damn sleep.

He promptly rolls flat on his back and hauls his blanket up over the two of you.

He sees your lashes dances as you blink, confusion flying across your face as you turn to eye him. He dodges your glance, eyes focused on his hands as he tucks the blanket over you and rolls to lay on his stomach. He drops his face into the pillow, ignoring the way your shoulder fits up against his ribs and how your legs touch his, and croaks out a grouchy:

“Go t’ bed.”

And that’s that.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon imagine #twd imagine #twd reader insert #the walking dead imagine #norman reedus x reader

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