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byuntrash101 · 3 years

Text

PARAPHILIA - Part 7

Pairing: Dom!Baekhyun x You; Boss!Baekhyun x You; CEO!Baekhyun x You

Genre: smutttttt

Tags: cuckolding, cheating, NTR, cum play, dirty talk, name calling (light), edging, oral (f)

Raiting: +18

Word count: 3.9k

Summary: When you are desperate for money you have no choice but to seek the help of Byun Baekhyun: your husband's rich, powerful and wicked boss.

A/N: This is the only part where OC and Baek are not a couple but keep reading it might even be better hehe. Guys this one is one of my faves of this whole series so I hope you like it toooo~ 😇😇 -Cat 😼

Tag list: @lovebuginlove @calamell @bobohumyonlyboo @smolbeanmika @making-me-blush @wooya1224 @yixing-jaehyun @f4ncyvelvet @lalalala-lav @deligxt @xofanfics @byunsugar @dixnysustae @to-all-the-stories-i-love @artisticcgroove @myexoobsession @geniusloey @blahblahblah-boo @nana-banana @mingiandbaconjam @chanyeolscoon

Tell me if you want to be added/removed

PARAPHILIA masterlist | General masterlist

Gif credit: thristyforbaek

Paraphilia #7: Troilism, Observing one's partner engaged in sexual activities with another person

T H E A L P H A M A L E

"Come on Seokjong, we're going to be late!" you tell your husband as you precede him on the pathway towards the big mansion. Your husband pants behind you.

"I know honey but... slow down a bit, will ya?" He puffs holding his side, difficulty going up the stairs. Your husband was never one to be really fit. He was rather short, not even taller than you and also a little chubby. People often told you that you two were not a good match. Telling you how much more good looking you were compared to him. Often you had to turn down the advances of men that thought themselves to be better than Seokjong but the truth was that you loved him. You loved him exactly the way that he was. Happily married for 4 years now.

Well... That was true up until recently. Even though you try to convince yourself otherwise. Your feelings are... changing.

You ring the doorbell in front of the enormous door of the even more gigantic mansion. While your husband catches up to you.

"Please enter" the distinguished butler says. "Please get seated. Mr Byun will receive you shortly" he points towards comfortable couches placed in the entrance. You look around the now familiar place. The floor is made of black marble tiles, the walls have an elegant white wallpaper with exquisite details. The entrance is very big, so big a renaissance style statue of a woman sits in the middle, while a huge staircase is right in front you.

You know the entrance very well but not the rest of the house because apart from the hall and another room you never visited it. Even though it was your 10th visit. Only two more to go...

After a while the butler came back and signaled you to both go upstairs. You politely nodded and went on your way. You knew exactly where to go...

Last room on your right... Mr Byun's office.

"Enter!" the low voice commanded from behind the door. You pushed in the door, your heart beating loudly.

The first thing you notice is the atmosphere. The big windows that accompanied the tall walls and the high ceilings are covered by curtains. The only light source is the desk lamp placed on the elegant dark wood desk that sits in the middle of the big office. The room is grand, the atmosphere very intimate.

Mr. Byun was standing there, slightly leaning back on his desk, shuffling through some paperwork, absentmindedly playing with the collar of his white shirt.

He wore a really expensive suit, very professional looking. Navy blue with discreet golden yellow accents and of course a thin white shirt that was perfectly hugging his frame. Which made your heart stomp even harder.

Mr. Byun was exactly what every woman would desire. He was handsome, had beautiful shiny chestnut hair. A body shape to die for with broad shoulders, a narrow waist and long legs. Gorgeous smooth skin, the most charming and seductive smile and of course... he was powerful.

Everything about him was, this mansion, the sports cars he drove, the way he dressed, the way he walked and even... The way he looked at you. Like right now.

He lifted his eyes from the paper, when they landed on you he took his time fully appreciating the view. He started with your shoes. You were wearing the sleek black shiny high heeled pumps he had requested for today. Then his eyes went up your legs to the slit of the red bodycon dress you paired with the shoes then to your breasts where his eyes lingered for a bit then to your collarbones then your neck then your plump red lips then finally your eyes.

Definitely you were not growing accustomed to the way he looked at you.

Seokjong also came in panting and profusely sweating. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his forehead. You rolled your eyes at him. You felt bad for that but at the same time... How could you not be mad at him? He was the reason why you were here in the first place.

Seokjong had an addiction. An addiction to gambling. For the past couple of years it has gotten worse, to a point where Seokjong lost 1 million dollars to the mob. It was a colossal amount of money that needed to be paid back right away. So of course you took two other jobs and also borrowed money from your parents but you barely could gather 80 000 dollars. It calmed down the mob for a while but after a time they started to threaten your family and loved ones.

So Seokjong turned to his boss: Byun Baekhyun. He had worked for him all his life and even for his father before he took over the company. So you both went to see him on the top floor of the big company building. Your husband got on his knees and begged him to lend him the money. He told him that he would work his whole life for it. He offered to put Mr. Byun on his will, he even offered him his parent’s farm, which was a ridiculous offer, and he knew it but he just had to take the chance in order to save your marriage, your family and even your life.

But Mr. Byun laughed at his face.

"Look at me... Look at this office. Does it look like there is anything in the world that I can't afford but you... somehow can?" his voice sounded so cold at the time.

"N-no..." Seojong said, lowering his eyes.

You remember how Mr. Byun leaned over your husband still flat on the ground and said:

"Offer me something that's unique, that only you have. Something that money can't buy and I might consider it..." with that his eyes turned to you and he looked at you for the first time like he did moments ago.

You remember how the shivers ran down your spine when his lips curled in a carnivorous smirk, how lust gradually clouded his eyes.

That time, for the first time. You let another man touch you, feel you, and look at you in places that were before only for Seokjong. Only for your husband.

That time, for the first time, at the top floor of the big highrise. You let Mr Byun Baekhyun have his way with you.

That's how you both agreed to let Mr Byun fuck you in front of your husband every month for a whole year in exchange of clearing Seokjong's depts with the mafia.

That was what you were now: Mr. Byun Baekhyun's whore.

"The door, Seokjong" Baekhyun commanded which brought you back to the present moment.

Slowly he walked up to you... Gradually you felt heat washing over you. You didn't want to admit it but there was a moment in time where you started to anticipate every time you had to come into this mansion. Of course you never told anybody, not even yourself.

Baekhyun walked behind you and rested his chin on your shoulder. You felt his warm breath brush on your ear and his body press against your back. His fingers brushed up your arm. From your wrist to your shoulder, sending goosebumps all over your body.

Already you felt a tingle build in your core. Because Baekhyun didn't even have to try to get you started. His aura and the simplest, littlest touches were well enough. But the worst part was that he wasn't content with that. Everytime he made sure to drive you crazy with desire, pushing all the right buttons to the point where you were the one begging for him.

Without even a word he slipped one of the spaghetti straps of your dress off your shoulder and started to nibble at your neck and earlobe. You knew your husband was right behind you, watching your every move so you tried your hardest not to make any noise as he planted blue and purple love bites all over you. He smirked when he noticed you were holding yourself back. Because he loved when you resisted him. The more you resisted the more gratifying it was when you finally gave in. And he knew you would... eventually you will give up yourself to him, again.

"Seokjong come here" he commanded while stepping in front of you and standing at a little distance, to be able to fully see you. Your husband shuffled to his side.

"Yes Mr Byun?" he asked looking up at him as he was a lot shorter.

"Strip her for me" he said motioning to you with his chin.

"Yes sir" Seokjong responded. He came to you and slipped off the other strap. Then with caution he slowly pulled on the thin red fabric and rolled the bodycon dress off you. First, your breasts popped out since Mr. Byun specially requested you to not wear a bra. It made him smile and lick his lips when he noticed how hard your nipples already were. Because even though you're trying to resist, your body speaks the truth.

Slowly but surely the dress was completely off you. Leaving you close to naked in your red lace thong and your shiny black pumps.

Baekhyun stayed silent for a minute while he walked around you. Admiring your breasts, your beautiful legs in the shoes he chose and even your perky ass in the minimalistic red thong.

He licked his lips again. Then walked in front of you. He slowly closed in the distance between the both of you until you felt his warm breath tickle your cheeks, his broad torso pressed against your naked chest and his bulge against your stomach. You held in your breath trying to contain the thumping of your heart.

"Seokjong come here" your husband shuffled to him. Baekhyun placed a hand on his shoulder. "There... stand... right there" he said as he placed him exactly facing the both of you only a few centimeters away.

"Pay attention" he told Seokjong, winking at him and playfully padding his shoulder.

"Yes sir" your husband answered.

"Now baby" Baekhyun brought back his attention to you. "Stick your tongue out for me"

Hesitant you slowly opened your mouth to stick out your tongue. Baekhyun glances again at Seokjong, making sure he's watching carefully. Then approaches his face to yours. Slowly he sucked on the tip of your tongue then he pushed his soft lips against yours. Embarking you on a hot kiss. His tongue swirled inside your mouth and as heat started to wash over your body you couldn't help but to look at Seokjong. He didn't lift an eyelash, he was petrified. Baekhyun deepened the kiss. His hand went up your hair, tangling his fingers in it, while the other slipped to your lower back where he pulled lightly on the waistband of the thong to let it slap against your skin. Gradually you felt his bulge harden against your stomach which made the tingly feeling even stronger.

He broke the kiss to let you catch your breath and looked at you with a satisfied smile. Stafisified because you couldn't hide anymore. Your eyes were begging him to continue as your body was too... Baekhyun felt that.

"Seokjong" Baekhyun called your husband, before sitting you on the desk and sliding off the red thong, passing it over your heels. "Look, that is what a simple kiss with me does to your wife" he said holding the little fabric in front of your husband face. You felt embarrassment creep up inside you.

The thong was drenched with juices, and you hated that. You hated how this was the truth. Your body was betraying you, craving more of his touches, longing for the moment he was going to be inside you.

Seokjong looked at the shameful result of your arousal and simply nodded.

"Lick it." Baekhyun commanded, smirking. "Taste your beloved wife's desire for my cock"

You whipped your head in the direction of your husband. He, too, looked at you before slowly bringing the red piece of fabric to his face and licking the wet spot. He closed his eyes, his eyebrows creased.

"How is it?" Baekhyun asked.

"Delicious, sir" Seokjong answered, opening his eyes. Baekhyun smirked before turning his attention to you again.

"I want to try it too" he said before crouching down and bringing his face close to your heat. You felt embarrassed. But at the same time you didn't move a muscle because you couldn't wait anymore for him to finally touch you there.

You immediately let your head fall back when you feel his warm and wet tongue on your slit. Slowly going up to your needy clit. A small whimper escapes your lips which makes Baekhyung smile against your folds. His skilled tongue paired with the teasing from earlier makes the knot in your stomach tighten. Really quickly, you feel the pleasure rising uncontrollably. But as soon as Baekhyung feels you twitch under his tongue he slows down to an unbearable pace.

You can't help but whimper desperately. He smirks again and picks up the pace, circling your swollen bud with his tongue.

This time shameless moans escape your lips, the pleasure is just too much and you can't help it. You're so close, you want to cum. But again, he slows down. You look down at him with pleading eyes but don't dare to actually say the words. He smirks at you; he loves to see you struggle like this. He loves the frustration in your eyes.

He starts up again. He gives you just enough to be close to the edge but not enough to actually go over. He keeps you there, in the middle, playing with you, torturing you. And you just can't take it anymore.

"Please" you whisper. He parts his lips from yours.

"Please what?" he says smirking, looking up at you. He brings his hand to your heat and draws small circles on your very sensitive clit. You gasp, biting your lip.

"Please let me cum" you beg in a breath, your head is dizzy, you have trouble keeping your balance on your high heels and you hold on for dear like to the edge of the desk.

"You want to cum baby?" you nod.

"Seokjong come here" your husband comes to stand directly behind him, facing you. "Watch how your wife cums for me".

With that Baekhyun's fingers slip inside you and curl up immediately spotting your good spot. You can't help but to moan loudly. His lips go back to your clit where his tongue continues to tease you further. Only this time, it's to finish the job.

Mercilessly his fingers and tongue attack you, to transform you into a moaning mess and as you feel the knot threatening to come undone you look up at your husband. You feel immense shame to let him see your delighted, sinful expressions from another man's touch. You're ashamed of letting him hear you moan for Baekhyun like that but at the same time... It turns you on so much. When you're met with the disappointed eyes of your husband you are finally able to cum. Your walls tighten around Baekhyun's fingers as you twitch uncontrollably under his tongue. Your juices rush out of you completely soaking the wooden floor. Completely out of breath you squirt all over, a blissful and lingering moan rolling off your tongue.

Baekhyun pulls out his drenched fingers out of you and stands back up before turning to Seokjong.

"Did she ever squirt like this for you?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"No, sir." Seokjong said, lowering his eyes. Baekhyun smirked, satisfied.

You tried catching your breath as you held yourself up on the desk with difficulty.

"Seokjong sit there" Baekhyun said as he pointed to the floor in front of the desk. Seokjong complied and sat his back straight against the darkwood and waited, his eyes locked on the floor.

Baekhyun started to undress himself. One by one he undid the button of his white shirt and took it off. Revealing his perfectly sculpted body. His chest was glistening from lightly sweating. His cologne gracefully floated to your nose. He smelled exactly like he looked: very expensive and manly.

He then took his pants off and kissed you again. Forcing your mouth open with his tongue as he pushed his hips on your stomach. You couldn't wait for him to be inside you.

"Bend over the desk baby" he said softly in your ear.

You turned around and bent over. You were positioned in a way that your husband's face was directly underneath your crotch. This way he had a front row seat on your adulterous sex with his boss.

Baekhyun came over and rubbed his hot tip against your drenched heat. He brushed it against your swollen clit before slowly slipping inside you. You moaned shamelessly at the delicious full sensation he was making you feel. There was no comparison. He was so much bigger than Seokjong.

"Seokjong, did you see how easily I slipped inside her? It's almost like she was made for me" Baekhyun said in a groan. Fully indulging himself in the tightness and warmness of your naughty little pussy.

Seokjong didn't even reply, instead he started to palm himself through his pants. He hated himself for it but he couldn't stop himself from getting aroused. He saw expressions you never made for him. He heard moans he never heard from you. All of that was, inevitably, turning him on.

Baekhyun started to slowly thrust himself in and out of you. You moan for him like he is the only one in the room. At this stage, you don't care one bit about your husband anymore. The only thing that you want is Baekhyun's fat cock rearranging your guts to fit him.

"Please faster" you plead. Baekhyun smirks but decides to grant your wish and goes faster and even deeper inside you. You throw your head back as he tightens his grip on your waist. Making your breast jump and the desk shake to the sound of your skin clashing.

He feels so good inside you, no one can ever fill you up like he does with his huge cock. You moan for him, forgetting about your husband right underneath you. You want Baekhyun to hear how good he makes you feel.

"Does it feel good baby"? he groans in your ear.

"Yes!" you reply without hesitation, his low voice sending goosebumps on your skin.

"Does my cock feel good?"

"Yes! Aaah.. So good!!" you close your eyes as you feel the knot tightening again.

"Yes you're a dirty little slut of a wife" he whispers in your ear.

Seokjong palms himself harder, rubbing circles on his aching cock. Drunk on the sounds that you make only for Baekhyun. Droplets of your juices crash on his cheeks and bottom lip which he sucks off hurriedly. It's almost like you never tasted so good.

Baekhyun picks up the pace again when he feels your pussy tightly gripping on his cock.

"Moan for me slut" he says through gritted teeth.

"Aaaah Baekhyun I'm cumming" you moan shamelessly. But Baekhyun once again slows down, a whimper escapes your lips as you feel your orgasm getting away.

"I'll let you cum if you tell Seokjong how much of a disgraceful wife you are" he says in a low voice, groaning in your ear as he fucks you at an agonizingly slow pace. You whimper, not wanting to go that far.

Seokjong doesn't move anymore, he holds his breath, somehow... he wants to hear that...

Baekhyun violently thrusts inside you to convince you. You scream out a moan to the immensely pleasurable but ephemeral sensation. With a trembling lip you start.

"Seokjong I'm sorry to be such an undeserving wife" you start, Baekhyung goes ever so slightly faster inside you.

"Aaaah... I let Baekhyun fuck me and... Aaaah.. I love it"

Seokjong rubs himself through his pants once again.

"But his dick is so much better than yours... Aaaaah"

"Good girl continue" Baekhyun encourages you by fucking you harder.

"There's no way... Aaaah... I can go back to your tiny penis anymore... Aaaah. After getting a taste of Baekhyun's huge cock"

Baekhyun goes even deeper and faster. The knot is threatening to come undone at anytime.

"Baekhyun's cock is... aaaah... aah... So good I only want him to make me cum. Only he knows how to manhandle me."

Seokjong furiously palms himself underneath you, his face towards your heat, where he carefully watches his beloved wife's pussy get rammed by his boss.

"Good girl." Baekhyun praises as he doesn't stop fucking you mercilessly. Feeling your pussy twitch around his cock. "Now cum for me baby. Cum on this dick baby" he commands.

You give yourself in to the pleasure Baekhyun makes you feel as your tongue loosely hangs out of your mouth and your eyes roll back. You can't control anything anymore. You're cumming harder than ever.

"Seokjong, listen to me moan while I cum on Baekhyun's fat cock" you scream as you finally cross the edge.

Your pussy pulsing around Baekhyun's huge cock inside you. You scream Baekhyun's name one last time as your juices gush out of you again. So much liquid spurts out of your pussy, to completely soak your husband that is still sitting right underneath you.

Seokjong releases himself in his pants. A stain of cum appears on his crotch through his pants as he opens his mouth wide to catch as much squirt as he can. He drinks your juices as his dick pulses under his hand.

Pleasure completely takes over your body, making your mind blank until the only thing you can ever remember it’s this incredible sensation of Baekhyun’s cock inside you.

You don't even have time to get down from your high that Baekhyun pulls on your hair to make you face him and kneel before him. He violently pumps his fist around his cock.

"I'm gonna cum in your mouth. Baby open wide" Without even a second thought you open your mouth and stick your tongue out more than happy to welcome his warm cum.

Finally Baekhyun shoots to the back of your throat and all over your face. You look delighted as so much thick cum coats your tongue and cheeks, the delicious bitter and manly taste spreads in your mouth and makes your head dizzy.

You fully savour his cum playing with it in your mouth before swallowing it all. Baekhyun looks at you with a satisfied smile. He taught you well. His eyes turn to your husband again.

"Now Kiss her. I want you to taste my cum in your beloved wife's mouth".

To Seokjong it's an unexpected miracle. He quickly scoots over to you and happily links your lips together. The bitter taste spreads to his mouth as he thoroughly licks and sucks your tongue, not forgetting one corner of your mouth.

Seokjong never told you either, but with time he also came to anticipate the visits to Mr Byun's house.

You both liked the thrill of doing something so bad, so wrong. But it felt so right and both of you were hooked.

Baekhyun smirked, a carnivorous smile plastered on his face. In the end, he both transformed you. He was proud of turning a happy couple into to two adulterous sex hungry freaks.

"See you next month"

PARAPHILIA masterlist | General masterlist

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silversatoru · 3 years

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the thin line between hope and despair

yelena x gn! reader

synopsis: you’re in love with yelena, and she feels nothing for for you. constant hook-ups and faded morals = very messy feelings

tags/warnings: nsfw, some smut?, angst, unrequited love, one-sided feelings, fuck buddies

word count: 2.5k

a/n: for my my sweet bby girl @brandmeyelena <3

Yelena knows what she’s doing with you isn’t right — on so many fucking levels. Taking advantage of your utter desperation for her over and over again when she knows damn well that she couldn’t care less about you. It wasn’t fair, especially for you, but she just couldn’t really find it in herself to feel sorry for someone so pitiful. You were so willing to devote yourself to her in exchange for mere crumbs of her affection, and it was pathetic. You left a sour taste in her mouth, a taste of sorrow and complete wretchedness, but you were also the perfect distraction. The perfect relief from all of her stress and all of her responsibilities with the volunteers. She was tired, and you were just so damn desperate to make her feel better — so how could she refuse? The answer was simple, she couldn’t.

That exact thought process is what landed her here today, with her fingers around your throat and your eyes rolled back into your head. She knows you love it too, being used like this — the way your cheeks grow flushed and your eyes get foggy when she cuts off the circulation to your brain. But she doesn’t do it for you — Yelena enjoys these things just as much as you do, her power hungry ego being fervently stroked by dominating you like this. Pinning you underneath of her and giving you orders made her feel in control — and that was perfect, because god knows she isn’t in control of anything else in her life right now.

Get down, she’d hiss at you, pointing to the floor with her long, slender index finger. Your pathetic frame would sink to your knees instantly, wordlessly doting to her every command. She’d lean back on her shoulders, her hips propped on the edge of the bed, and give you an expectant look. You know what to do. Do it, her voice would snarl, her empty eyes swirling with hunger. You’d feverishly obey, launching yourself forward and graciously opening your mouth for her pussy. You were dedicated to your craft, taking your time and ensuring that your tongue consumed every inch of her. Yelena’s head would fall back and, raspy, wet noises gurgled from her throat. She was entirely consumed by this twisted bliss — and she was a horrible monster for letting you do these things to her, but she felt far too good to care.

So now here you were, your tongue buried deep inside her while you worked desperately to make her feel better. She was quieter than usual today — the only things to leave her lips were small groans and half-assed insults. Things like the occasional “faster” while she pulled your hair, or “stupid slut” when you weren’t doing things quite right. The slander only made you work harder however, and honestly anything that came out of the blonde woman’s mouth was music to your ears. You stared up at her with rose-colored glasses, living in a delusional world where you truly believed Yelena cared about you.

It was a dreadfully fucked up dynamic — this relationship the two of you had, if it could even be called that. One of you lived in a terrible fantasy of what could be and the other was practically incapable of feeling human emotions. It was truly only a matter of time before the world started burning around the two of you.

A very short matter of time.

Yelena was spasming underneath of you now, warm juices and shaky convulsions racking through her body and into your mouth. You drove your tongue deep against her contracting walls, your eyes squeezed shut. A disgustingly sticky mixture of her fluids and your own saliva dripped down your chin as you finally pulled away, a bitter taste hanging on your tongue.

And Yelena was always quick to leave, she never stuck around any longer than she had to. She came, she came, and then she’d pull shitty excuses out of her ass as to why she needed to leave so soon. Those reasons more often than not consisted of one person — Zeke Yeager. Whether or not there was something romantic between the two, or if she was just highly devoted to him, you could never tell. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to know, honestly, because the answer might just break your heart.

Why don’t you stay tonight, Lena? You looked over at her as she pulled her trousers up her long, gangly legs. You craved something deeper with her, something more than just occasional casual sex — but it was really too bad that she didnt reciprocate those feelings at all. Sorry, there's a meeting tonight. I have to go. She’d respond, her voice dull as she carelessly brushed you off and slipped on her boots.

Will Zeke be there? Your voice always got low when you talked about him, but you made intentional efforts to hide the jealousy in your tone. Of course he’ll be there, he is the leader, she’d state dully as if this was obvious, and maybe it was, but it still made your chest ache.

You spend a lot of time with him lately, even outside of meetings, you’d state your observations out loud for the first time. Confrontation wasn’t something you enjoyed, and you certainly weren’t any good at explaining your feelings either. But your heart was starting to nag you lately, and you needed to voice your opinions before it was too late.

We’re preparing for a war, her eyes grew incredibly narrow, try not to make such selfish accusations right now. The words were like daggers of guilt stabbing between your ribs. Yelena had a way with words — a shiny silver tongue that always made you believe what she said without a doubt. You started to believe that you were being selfish — after all the war was very real and Yelena was very involved, that's probably all it was.

You’re right, I’m sorry. I just wish you were around more. Your voice was much quieter now, shame and remorse churning in your stomach -- maybe you would have been better off not saying anything at all.

We’re busy. You have to understand where I’m coming from here. It’s hard for me to make time right now, she’d continue to spew nonsense into your impressionable ears. She didn’t like that you were starting to question her, not at all. She’d say whatever you needed to hear to keep you around at this point — she didn’t plan on losing her little fuck-toy anytime soon. If you needed a little affection to keep you complacent, then she’d just need to put on a little show for you.

Come here, I’m sorry, her tone grew softer, but not at all sincere. You helplessly sunk into her spindly arms, and she pulled you tight to her chest. Just hold on until after the war, okay? Once we make the world a better place, we can do whatever you want.

More false hope, false promises, and false reassurance. The war would be brutal, you’d probably die at some point in a terrible event of collateral damage. You’d die and then Yelena would never need to fulfil her empty promises -- it was that easy, and you’d never know the difference.

That sounds nice, you’d smile, your heart warming at the idea of living in a free world with Yelena by your side. You fell ignorantly for her words, missing every single warning sign and every single red flag. Maybe if you’d noticed the subtle darkness in her eyes, the strain in her tone, or the way she hugged you a little too roughly, you could have saved yourself from the ensuing heartbreak. Or maybe if you had realized that with you being a scout and her being a follower of Zeke, it was unlikely that the two of you would ever work out. But you stupidly refused to consider any of these things, and it was going to cost you your heart.

That fateful memory was a few months ago, and now the both of you were in Marley, anxiously waiting for Eren’s plan to unfold. You were partnered with your friend Connie, his lips twisting into a thin line as the two of you hid in the shadows on top of an industrial building. You were incredibly capable with your 3dm gear, and even more capable with the new gun technology, but you were practically useless with your head in its current state. You watched the streets with fervent eyes, dashing them up and down nearby alleyways and hoping for any sign of Yelena. The attack hadn’t even started yet, but not knowing her whereabouts made you incredibly uneasy. She was probably wherever Zeke was, of course, but you liked to think that wherever she was, she was worried about you too.

Yelena was hiding in plain sight, dressed in a traditional Marleyan Army uniform with fake facial hair wrapped around her chin. She did as she was ordered, trapping two of the titan shifters in a large hole and then retreating back to her position. She was focused solely on her task, and on Zeke and how she could ensure his safety, and honestly, the thought of you hadn’t crossed her mind once tonight.

When Eren’s attack came, it came suddenly and violently -- and it was like nothing you’ve ever seen before, or at least not since the colossal and armored titans attacked so many years ago. Before you could even take in the horrifying scene in front of you, Connie was grabbing your hand and ushering you to run, the two of you taking off with your 3dm gear. You couldn’t stop your eyes from wandering as your body swung through the air, frantically searching the streets for the tall, blonde woman who owned your heart. But maybe you should have paid less attention to finding her, and more attention to where you were going.

Connie’s shrill scream shook you to your core, and at first you didn’t even notice the array of guns pointed right at the two of you. A group of Marleyan soldiers were lined up atop a building, every single nozzle of their firearms preparing to shoot at you and Connie. Your friend shot his gear downwards, swooping underneath the scope of the guns and shouting at you to follow him. And you tried, you really did, but you were horribly distracted and accidentally shot your gear into the very edge of a building. The hook crumbled the corner of the building and was unable to secure itself, sending you hurling to the ground beneath you. Your breath was wiped clean from your chest as you smacked against the ground, dust and dirt filling your lungs. Connie was forced to swing up onto a higher building, narrowly avoiding the bullets and unable to come down after you. Your bones ached as you peeled yourself off the ground, looking up just to see pieces of rubble hurling towards you. What the FUCK, Eren? You silently cursed out that irresponsible titan boy, scrambling to avoid the giant chunks of building that were quickly getting closer.

You thought you’d made it, your heart beat gushing in your ears as you launched yourself towards another building, only to be knocked back down by a slab of broken concrete. Pained yelps squeezed out from your throat as your body fell helplessly back to the ground. This fall did a number on you, your ears ringing and your head pounding with a dull pain. The large piece of rubble had crashed into one of your legs, rendering your leg immobile and absolutely crushing your gear. Connie couldn’t help you, not when saving you guaranteed his own demise — you needed to do this on your own, unless-

“Yelena!” You called out to the towering woman who was stumbling towards you. Her arm was wrapped around an injured Zeke, and she was working hard to carry him to safety. Levi must have rocked his shit again, you’d have to thank him for that if you made it out of this alive.

Yelena stopped momentarily when she saw your mangled leg, but not even an ounce of concern crossed her determined face. She looked you up and down, and then glanced down at Zeke as if she was weighing her options.

“I’m sorry,” She shot you a horribly unsypathetic look, dragging her gaze away from you and hurrying off with the injured blonde boy.

It was so simple, so short, and there wasn't the smallest hint of remorse in her voice. Your brain couldn’t process how easy it was for her to leave you there, your mouth hanging open in a small “o”. You would give your life for Yelena, and she didn’t even blink when you were faced with certain death — and that’s when it all started to set in. The delusional facade that you’d imagined between the two of you was shattering, small pieces of glass memories crashing and crumbling around you. The cruel owner of your pitiful heart felt nothing for you, and it had taken this long for you to finally realize.

All of the days and nights the two of you spent entangled in each other's arms had meant nothing. All of the time you spent with your lips locked against hers and her large hands caressing your body had been devoid of anything more than lust for her. Terrible embarrassment washed up inside of you as you recalled all of the sinful things you did for this cold-hearted, unfeeling woman.

Your motivation to fight was gone, your eyes locked onto Yelena’s tall figure as she ran further away and out of view. She’d picked Zeke over you again, she always did, and she always would. She practically worshiped him, like he was some kind of fucked up, twisted god. You weren’t sure why you ever thought you could compete with that.

In the midst of your complete breakdown, a firm arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you into the air. Connie had come back for you, cold air stinging your face as the two of you shot up to the safety of a tall, nearby building.

“Fuck, y/n, stop being so careless! And I hope you’ll finally give up on that lanky bitch after she walked right past you like that,” he let out an exasperated breath, slumping behind a large brick wall.

“Sorry… thank you,” you mumbled, “You really shouldn’t have risked your life like that”.

“No, but that’s what people are supposed to do when they care about each other. Is it finally sinking in, that she's been using you for the past year? I tried to tell you so many time-,” He continued to ramble on in frustration.

Every one of his words poured salt into your already burning wounds, tears beginning to leak from your eyes. Yelena didn’t care about you, she never did — she’d never even sacrificed time for you, never mind compromising her or Zeke’s safety for you. And you were stupidly ignorant to ever think that she saw you as more than a toy she used to pass the time.

#yelena #yelena angst #yelena attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #yelena x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan angst

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windless-hurricane · 3 years

Text

Sparks

Chapter Four: A World Where We Can Grow Old

A Reiner x Reader x (Eventual) Jean Fanfic

• ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ •

SUMMARY: After the fall of Shiganshina, you joined the military along with your brother. You had hoped to bring peace to the world by doing so, but the world was a cruel place. You seemed to lose more than you gained, but there was always someone - someone who made losing just a bit…easier. You hoped you could keep them forever, but was there a guarantee in this world?

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Here’s the fourth chapter! While things are a bit slow right now, the story’s really going to pick up after this chapter!

WARNINGS (for entire series): Language, explicit violence, talks of death, suicide, trauma, and mental illness, graphic scenes involving blood and/or death, and sexuality.

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

TAGLIST: @lovethemilkteasis @grayxblaze @theyoungblood13 @flowersgirl02 @noodlenerd101 @hanabihwa @drowned-pathetic-rat @bestgirlb @bleepop @miinnttyy @1-800-thanos @lovelime @usernamehere91

SPARKS MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

• ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ •

You and your brother stood beside each other as a stream of smoke poured into the sky. You wondered where it came from, how it got there, why it was there, and your questions were answered once a colossal, red hand slung itself over the wall and grabbed onto it.

You flinched uneasily as your eyes widened in fear.

What’s happening? What’s going on? What is that? Is that… Is that a-

Then, a large, skinless face peeked over, its teeth clenching and its gaze terrifying.

It was. It was a Titan, but how...how could it be that big? It was impossible.

Your body trembled as you reached for Viktor's hand. He met you in the middle, gripping your hand back tightly. You could feel the heat and sweat from his skin, showing just how mortified he was.

“V-Vik-tor, I…” you stuttered, but you couldn’t form a coherent sentence. Your mind was going wild and you could feel your heart clenching in your chest.

What-what do we do? Where’s the Garrison Regiment? Where’s Jannick? Where’s dad?

Anybody?

Then, a sudden force shoved you to the ground as the Titan kicked through the wall, sending chunks of it flying.

People screamed, pushed past each other, and ran for whatever time was left of their lives. However, you couldn’t. You were frozen.

Everything was a blur and your ears filled with static.

What should I do?

However, you didn’t have time to ponder that question as a boulder headed straight for you.

This is it. I’m gonna die.

“(Y/N)! Move! (Y/N)!”

__________________________________________

“(Y/N)!”

You gasped yourself awake, sitting up in a panic.

You were panting heavily with sweat dripping down your forehead. You barely managed to wipe it away with your shaky hand. Matter of fact, your whole body was shaking.

“Are you okay,” Sasha asked, gazing at you with worried eyes. Admittedly, no. Your heart was still beating out of its chest and you felt your head begin to pound. However, you couldn’t dwell on something that has already happened. It’s over.

“I’m fine,” you responded, but the hoarseness of your voice didn’t match your words.

“Are you sure,” she pushed. “Because you don’t look like it.” She gestured to your hand and you were surprised to see that you had been clenching your blanket so tightly that the whites of your knuckles were showing. You hadn’t even realized that you were gripping it.

You let go, your knuckle cracking in the process.

“Yeah,” you nodded and you were about to relax until a new form of panic arose within you. “Wait, Sasha. Are we late?”

“Uh, well…” she trailed off. “We’re about to be.” Your eyes widened as you immediately threw yourself off the bed.

“You should’ve said that to begin with,” you exclaimed, shuffling around for your uniform. “We can’t be late for combat training!”

__________________________________________

You and Sasha made a run for the training grounds and were lucky to see that the rest of the cadets were still waiting for Shadis’s instruction.

You sighed a breath of relief as you lined up beside her, not noticing Reiner standing on the other side of you.

He unconsciously looked you over and noticed your disheveled appearance. You had a bad case of bed hair and a few buckles of your uniform had come undone. He also noticed the sheen of sweat covering your face and how you were breathing a little heavier than normal. Either you just woke up late or something else had happened. He wasn’t sure which.

As Shadis made his way up to the speaking platform, all side conversations came to a halt and he turned to face you all with a hard gaze.

“Alright, maggots,” he shouted, making your ears ring. “Today, we are engaging in combat training! While some of you may think this is unnecessary as you obviously can’t use hand-to-hand combat against a Titan...” You and a few cadets snickered. “Shut up!”

You smirked as he continued on. “As I was saying, if you’re lucky enough to make it into the Top 10 and join the Military Police, you won’t be dealing with Titans. You’ll be dealing with people, criminals, thugs. Likewise with the Garrison Regiment. Therefore, it is important to know basic fighting skills and how to defend yourself in any situation… Do your meager minds understand?!”

“Yes, sir,” you all replied in unison.

“Good, now listen for your partners!”

“Sir, if I may ask, why can’t we choose our own partners,” you asked suddenly, causing your peers to gape at you like they did at orientation. However, you were unfazed, even after Shadis shot you the same death glare as before.

“No, you may not ask, Bauer,” Shadis growled and you attempted to suppress your smile. “Now, run laps until I’ve finished. Afterwards, get your ass handed to you by Braun.”

“Yes, sir,” you saluted, shooting a glance at Reiner as he smirked at you. “If he can even beat me,” you countered, speaking so quietly that only Reiner could hear you.

As you jogged past him toward the dirt track, he watched you with amusement.

You certainly weren’t like the other girls in the Training Corps. You somehow managed to be sweet, fiery, and so sure of yourself all at once. You always spoke your mind and were seemingly fearless, choosing to mess with the scariest person there without a care in the world. Finally, you were awfully kind, taking care of your brother whenever you could and indulging in his own mischievousness, even if it meant the both of you potentially getting trouble. He even saw you do the same with Sasha and Eren.

You truly were something else.

He grinned faintly as he found you smirking back at him.

“We’ll see about that, hotshot,” he murmured.

__________________________________________

Once Shadis had finished announcing everyone’s partners, you jogged over to Reiner, panting slightly.

He raised his eyebrows at you as you came to a stop a few feet in front of him.

“How was the jog,” he teased and you scoffed in response.

“Nothing compared to the swimming I had to endure on the first day,” you admitted, clearing your throat.

“Why do you always annoy him when you know full well what he’s going to do?” The question would have sounded condescending coming from anyone else, but you could tell he was more amused than anything.

“I don’t like him,�� you stated bluntly. “And…” your eyes began to soften. “I think we ought to have some fun while we’re here.”

“Huh,” he breathed, taken aback by your answer.

Fun? In times like these, he thought to himself.

“I know what you’re thinking,” you chuckled. “Fun? In times like these? I know. The world is so dark these days, but I think we need to be reminded that we’re still alive. We need to laugh, smile, feel happiness. Most importantly, be human and how could we do that if we’re scared or in grief all the time? I still don’t like him, but if you all are entertained along the way, fine by me.”

He gazed at you admirably, unsure of how to process your words. He felt...conflicted more than anything.

“You really are one of a kind, (Y/N),” he commented, his voice coming out smoother than how he felt on the inside.

Your cheeks blushed faintly as you grinned.

“If I didn’t know any better, Reiner, I’d say you were flirting with me rather than trying to fight me,” you cooed and he let out a chuckle through his nose.

“And what if I was,” he suggested with a glint in his eyes.

“I'd still say to fight me.”

You raised your arms in a fighting stance and he quirked his eyebrow at you.

“I haven’t seen a stance like that before,” he observed, putting his own arms up. “Where’d you learn it?”

“Enough talking!”

You charged at Reiner with a plan already in mind.

I’ll go for a punch towards his face. Once he decides to either block it or pull away from it, I’ll sweep his legs right from underneath him.

You went for your punch, but he unexpectedly didn’t do either. He instead grabbed your fist tightly, not allowing you to pull away, and twisted your arm behind your back. He pulled you against him and your face heated up as his chest pressed into you.

“I don’t think you expected that, (Y/N),” he whispered, his breath fanning your cheek. “I thought I wasn’t going to be able to beat you.” You honestly thought so too, but you were overconfident. It made sense that he was able to stop you. He was confident too, but just the right amount. He also knew how to fight.

Although your arm was starting to hurt from his grip, you still smirked with excitement.

“The fight doesn’t end until one of us is pinned down,” you stated, stomping down on his foot.

He groaned as he released his hold on you and you threw your head back, coming into contact with his chin. As a result, he lost his footing and you took the opportunity to crouch down and swipe your leg underneath his. He fell to the ground and you threw yourself on top of him. You bent your right leg at the knee and dug it into his thigh, holding his other leg down in the process. You used your left foot to keep one of his arms down. Then, you pinned his wrist with one of your hands and used the other to keep his head against the ground. You smiled, letting out a quick exhale.

“I pinned you.”

“Let’s make a deal,” and you gaped down at him in surprise. Why did he look and sound so nonchalant despite his position?

“What?”

“Whoever’s pinned down last has to do something for the other,” he explained.

“If you can even-“ Before you could finish, he propped his knee up from under you and your foot slid off his wrist. He gripped you from your collar and threw you over, causing you to land on the opposite side of his head. You went to do a kip up, but he grabbed you by the shoulder of your jacket and dragged you until you were within straddling range. He got on top of you as he smiled faintly.

“That’s what we have to find out.”

After that, you both spent the next half hour pinning each other down until Shadis told everyone to stop.

You gasped for air as you pinned Reiner’s wrists above his head and used your knees to keep his legs in place. He was breathing heavily as well, his stomach on the ground and his cheek pushing against the dirt.

“I-I win,” you announced, tightening your hold on him as a reminder.

“I can see that,” he strained, barely looking at you from the corner of his eye. “You win.”

You sighed in satisfaction and let him go, finally standing up. You wiped excess sweat and dirt off your forehead, watching as he turned over and sat up with a grunt.

“You’re an impressive fighter, (Y/N),” he complimented. “I think you’re as good as Annie.”

“Well, you’re not too bad yourself,” you admitted. “I haven’t had a fight like that in awhile.”

“So, then,” he started. “What do you want?”

“Huh?” You blushed slightly as you scratched the back of your head. “I haven’t thought that far ahead… What did you even want?”

“I wanted you to answer a question of mine,” he revealed, a darkness creeping on his cheeks.

“Just a question,” you asked in disbelief. “All of that for a question? What is it?”

“Why'd you join the military?”

“That question again? Well, I guess I never answered you to begin with,” you remembered. “Silly, you could’ve just asked me instead of letting me beat you up.”

“I didn’t know how to bring it up again without it seeming weird,” he confessed and you shook your head.

“It wouldn’t have. I like talking to you.”

You extended your hand out to him and the moment his fingers brushed yours, you felt what could only be described as a jolt of electricity running through you and you took a step back.

You looked down at him and he stared back at you with a similar expression - utter confusion.

Did he feel that too?

“Um, sorry,” you apologized, laughing slightly. “It must’ve been static.”

“No worries,” he assured with a chuckle and you stuck your hand out once again.

He took it graciously and thanked you as you hoisted him up. You nodded, gazing at him right after.

“I joined the military because I want to live in a world where the only concern is growing old,” you finally answered. “I don’t want us to worry about walls, Titans, or whatever the hell else could be out there. I just want us to be happy and have the freedom to live our lives to the fullest... Does that...sorta answer your question?”

It did, it really did. So, why did Reiner still feel a pang in his chest? Why was he hoping for a more selfish answer? Why did he want your answer to not be as noble as the one you gave? Why did he want you to be...less human?

In the end, he knew the answers to all these questions. He didn’t want to feel guilty for what he had done and what he was going to do...but everyone was making it extremely difficult. (Y/N) especially.

As you both smiled at each other, one question plagued his mind.

Why were the Devils of Paradis…so human?

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colossal-fallout · 3 years

Note

Alright I'm stepping up and asking for titan annie smut with s/o (its kinda important in smut so let's say reader had male genitalia). Also take all the time u need sweetie ❤

This is my first time writing something like this, so I hope it's okay. Also sorry it's late had loads going on irl.

In this fic, titans have sexual organs. Please Gimmie feedback on this one, whoever requested it ❤️

Hope you enjoy it.

M! Reader X Titan Annie

Warnings: NSFW. 18+ Smut. Monster fucking.

You couldn't believe your ears when you heard your lover mutter those words in a strained admission. Your head went fuzzy and your body numb as the same sentence rang around your ears over and over again.

"I'm the female Titan."

That was three days ago, and to be honest, your world was still shaken. She'd explained everything; the reason she was here. Her mission. Your brain was still stuck at the first stage of the cycle of grief - denial.

You'd told her you needed space, to clear your head. A kiss sealing your promise of not exposing her. Her reasons were somewhat justified. You were just relieved she wasn't a cold blooded murderer, slaughtering people with no rhyme or reason.

Seventy-two hours since the news and she'd arranged to meet you deep within a forest inside wall rose; far away from any witnesses.

Far away from any hope of a saviour should things take a turn.

Your heart ascended into your throat when you entered the arranged clearing and your eyes were met with two huge clear blue ponds staring back at you.

The female Titan was on all fours, chin to the ground showing submission like some giant dog in a play-bow. Except her saddened eyes expressed a lot less than excitement.

"A-Annie...?" You croak, your body freezing and tensing.

A low growl of confirmation rumbles her, the hot breath from her nostrils pushing back your hood. Your hand auto grabs it back, pulling it off your head entirely as if without it on your head would get you a better view of what was before you.

She had told you. But a part of you refused to believe it. Until now.

You walk around her timidly, hand grazing along her Titan flesh as you would walking around marveling at a new car.

"So, this..." You frown taking it all in. "Is your Titan form, huh?"

She bows her head once in a nod, her eyes being the only thing else to move as she follows your movements.

Your heart suddenly sinks. Here she is, baring her soul to you and all you did for three days was refuse to even believe it.

"I'm sorry, baby." You sigh continuing your journey down her side. "I shouldn't have pushed you away."

Her eyes close, accepting your apology humbly.

"Woah."

Her eyes open when you gasp, now behind her and gazing up at this huge yet beautiful pussy hovering above you.

Her Titan form might not be capable of blushing; but her human form sure was as she lowers her pelvis slightly to allow you a closer look.

It was like being in a sauna with the heat rolling off of it, engulfing you with its beautiful scent - one so undeniably delicious you couldn't help but notice your mouth begining to salivate.

"Have you ever...? A a Titan...?"

She looks around, shaking her head.

A smirk spreads across your face.

"Let me... Make it up to you."

You grab two large handfuls of her ass, the full feeling in your palms as well as knowing there was still plenty more to give attention to was already begining to stir your dick awake.

She mewls, rumbling the air around you both as you press your face into her warm flesh, you entire body caressing and squeezing everything it could with such greedy glee.

"Fuck..." You breathe, lowering your head and walking under her pubic bone to her colossal clit.

A high pitched grumble escapes her as you open your mouth and suck her clit, there still being enough of it to caress with your hands and massage it - kneeding with your fingers and squeezing it against you.

You flinch in surprise when you feel a warm, sticky substance begin to drizzle over you. Looking up you see her arousal leaking from her insdies, coating you in her natural lubricant.

"Fuck Annie."

You didn't know what it was, but something about this awakened something in you. Something absolutely ferral and hysterical.

You return to what you were doing, working her flesh with more haste, making out with and groaning against her clit. It was extremely difficult for her not to move and squirm with pleasure, but she didn't want to crush her lover, so instead she dug her large fingertips into the dirt, her eyes pleading and lips parting in a large exhale.

You could hardly take how full you felt - your mouth stuffed with her flesh as well as your arms and entire body squishing into this large bud, more around you to grab and suck and now, dry hump, as you feel like you've died and gone to heaven.

You groan as more fluid trickles down, soaking your cloak, the sound of it splashing against the grass behind you went unnoticed - hastily unzipping your trousers and pulling out your now throbbing cock, not able to handle the overloading senses.

Looking up, you see her peering down at yoi from below her breasts, her large Titan teeth clamping down on her bottom lip.

You didn't know where to start, where to go next as you slowly stroke yourself, rubbing your face against her swollen clit, making out with it sloppily.

A desperate whine emits from her, signalling she was close to her orgasm. You couldn't lie, you were a little apprehensive making her orgasm while you were underneath her. But you'd figured if you could pick a way to die, being crushed by a giant slit while making it climax would probably be the best way to die.

Your pace quickens, the liquid dripping down now more thick and in larger quantities while you work her, now thrusting and rubbing your dick against her deliciously warm flesh.

"Fuck!" You bark, your oozing pre cum not even a small splash upon her as you continue your movements.

You hear her insides clenching together loudly above you, squelching and slopping, trying to grab a hold of anything it could as she begins to tumble off the edge of sanity.

Her fingers sink deeper into the soil as she orgasms, her scream loud and frightening; making nearby birds flutter off in a panic. But you didn't care, you were too preoccupied with the gush of fluid now drenching you, your hair soaked as you continue to rub your swollen head against her. The liquid is warm and pleasant, never did you think you'd be this drenched in pussy juice, the beautiful smell making your eyes roll as you continue to now thrust yourself between two folds of her skin.

Your movements and groans get desperate, this new experience proving too much to handle in one round, your mind already wondering where you were going to mark her with your white mess. You don't have much time to think as another large drip down onto you pushes you into the ether + your eyes roll as you cum, your roar louder than any other time you'd came before in your life. Full, stuffed, warm, soaking and having so much more to fuck and do to her had your knees buckle as you splurge across her, your grip so tight you begin to tremble.

You pant, your comedown from your high hitting you hard. You were going to recover and fuck every inch of this beautiful creature, covering her in all the mess you could as her liquids seep into your mouth.

#snk #attack on titan #snk imagines #snk season 4 #snk fandom #annie leonhart #annie x reader #attack on titan annie #snk annie #annie snk #aot smut #snk smut

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robbyrobinson · 3 years

Text

VILLAIN REVIEW: KING ANDRIAS (AMPHIBIA)

Voiced by: Keith David

First Appearance: Marcy at the Gates

Admittedly, Amphibia didn't instantly hook me in ways that Gravity Falls or the Owl House had. The first season was okay what with the worldbuilding and stuff. But Season 2 definitely improved especially because of this guy.

BIOGRAPHY

Thousands of years ago, he was the ruler of Newtopia who was in charge of the Calamity Box, an interdimensional device that could allow people to travel to other worlds. From there, he claimed that his ancestors were peaceful explorers who used the box to communicate. One day, the box was stolen with him believing his two former friends betrayed him. From there, Newtopia lost a bit of its greatness....

At least until the day Anne Boonchuy, Marcy Wu, and Sasha Waybright inadvertently end up in Amphibia after Anne is peer pressured into stealing the box from an antique store. From there, in his own words, the game could finally begin.

PERSONALITY

Keith David does a brilliant job portraying the king of Amphibia. At first glance, Andrias comes off as being a jovial, childish monarch who comes across as a "kewl grandpa", not spelled "cool," but "K-E-W-L." He comes off as delighted with helping Anne and the girls find a way back home...maybe a bit too eager. Honestly, the first time that I have seen him, I already mentally worked it out that he would be a bad guy because a lot of those kings in cartoons turn out as such. Not to say that it really takes away from the overall performance, it is just kind of obvious.

Yet, there are several subtle hints of his true nature just at the surface such as when he and Marcy conduct research on the Calamity Box and find a secret passageway that he "did not know about." If you notice, he has a smug smile across his face before joining Marcy in the passage.

But it's once his true colors are exposed where he truly shines. To make it short and simple, Andrias is evil. Purely and simply evil. So far, he has all the cards as likely becoming one of the most evil of the Disney animated television shows, possibly competing with the heavier hitters like Lunaris, Bulba, or Bill freaking Cipher.

He is ruthless: he wants to rule over all worlds with an iron fist and will absolutely NOT let anything come in between him and his schemes. He can kill a sapient robot without batting an eye and then the next moment smoothly try to batter a baby frog with his fist. If you have a best friend, he'd think nothing of dangling them over a window and threaten to drop them if his demands are not met. And then do so anyway because he is a dick.

Make no mistakes: Andrias passes the criteria for a sociopath with glowing colors. He is manipulative. He puts on the superficial charm of a grandfather-like figure while secretly stringing people along and manipulating them like chess pieces. What he does to Marcy is the dickish cherry on top of the douchebag sundae. He exploits a 13-year-old's desperation of wanting to stay with her two best friends and pretends to empathize with her even offering her a deal that he knew was like sweet nectar to her: when he invades other worlds, she and her friends will travel the worlds together having several amazing adventures.

He lacks empathy or emotional attachments. Already you have some people going off the trailer for season 3 saying that Andrias definitely was fond of Marcy because she was shown in a rejuvenation machine. Sure, I can totally see where people are coming from. I mean, it's not like it was his own fault for putting her there to begin with. That's a crazy thought. In all seriousness, he only sees Marcy as a pawn in his schemes and his only response to stabbing her is an irritated "Now look what you made me do." Way to blame the victim for your own acts, Andrias.

He had two friends thousands of years ago that even now it is apparent he holds resentment towards them for "betraying" him. Him deciding to drop Sprig was him basically wanting Anne to go through the same pain he felt when he was "wronged." But that does nothing to EXPLAIN why he is such a sociopathic megalomaniac. If anything, how the episode plays it off is that his "friends" betrayed him because he was a psychotic salamander with delusions of grandeur. Given how much of a bully he was once he was revealed to be evil, I am really wondering if that could have also played into it. But it looks like the show is doing this to make Andrias more of a foil for Anne and her two friends.

And, currently, he has absolutely no remorse for any of his actions. He giddily reveals Marcy's secret that she was the one who deliberately stranded herself and her friends in Amphibia in the first place even when he knew that she told him that in confidence. He then mockingly apologizes for "spilling the tea."

And what is a sociopath if not egotistical? Andrias believes that he alone should rule over not just Amphibia, but the Earth, and other worlds. He doesn't care whether or not people will bow to his rule as the tapestry itself shows. He is standing over a pile of bones making it very explicit what his invasions will result in should Anne and her team fail to stop him.

But I will not deny that he is a scarily competent threat who doesn't mess around.

ABILITIES

He has lived for 1,000+ years. It is not confirmed if it has to do with the particular breed of salamander he is, or if his longevity comes in part due to his 13-eyed master whom he is helping accomplish this "revenge" by subverting a prophecy having to do with the three human girls.

Besides his manipulation and charisma, Andrias is a competent fighter. Despite being colossal and a bit on the chunky side, he is surprisingly agile and wields a flaming sword. He is also insanely stout. Even when Anne goes Super Saiyan mode on his ass, he could still hold his ground with the use of his shield.

He also has knowledge over machinery and can command his robo-frog army with ease.

FINAL SCORE

Biography: 6

Personality:

Abilities: 7

Overall: 7/10

#amphibia #andrias #king andrias #review #true colors #villains #disney villains #sociopath #disney channel #disney

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jkbabiey · 3 years

Text

𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 ⤇ 𝙹𝙹𝙺

Words: 2.9K

Pairing: Jungkook x doctor!reader

Genre: angst; fluff; established relationship au ; minor character death :(((

Synopsis: “He would never make you feel any less for having a human side, a weak side. Instead, he would embrace it with everything he had. Always.”

Song Rec: End of a day - Jonghyun ; Breathe - Lee Hi ; That's Okay - D.O. ; Not Alone - NCT 127 ; Try Again - Jaehyun, d.ear ; Inner Child - V ; Through the night - IU ; Be Your Enemy - Taemin, Wendy

The heavy rain fell like never before. The streets were completely drenched and, unfortunately for your completely timid and, currently, partially stoic nature, completely crammed. Your shift in the hospital had just ended. You were exhausted and, on days like this, you couldn’t find your job as a cardiothoracic surgeon more bitter. You loved your job, after the many hardships you’d had to endure to get to the position you are in today and so much effort you had to put into it, you couldn’t have any doubts about your love towards medicine and surgery. And you didn’t.

But the truth is that doing what you do every single day - fighting death itself - wasn’t easy. It takes a colossal number of rocky roads to fully accept and understand that some lives are just too frail for you to save, and, sometimes death is just too stubborn and strong-willed to let you win.

You hadn’t travelled all those paths yet.

Today, you had lost 2 of your patients. Patients you had been following and helping for the last 2 years of your medical career. They held a soft spot in your heart, and they both had had surgical procedures today, with you as their surgeon, as always. But during their surgeries, there were several amounts of complications and your patients weren’t strong enough to handle all the fights they had yet to battle. Unfortunately.

You were still a 29-year-old girl. You were still a dewy-eyed silly over-emotional and easily-attached little girl. To lose 2 of your favourite patients in one day was still way too much for you. But, among your group of friends, you were the hardcore one and you hadn’t cried. Your weak and human side was the last thing you wanted to show to your colleagues. The competitiveness that ruled the medical industry wouldn’t allow you. You had worked hard to build up the reputation you held today among everyone in the hospital. The hardcore emotionless goddess of surgery.

And even though you were, indeed, a hardcore surgery goddess, you were far from emotionless. You cried watching sad movies and were one of the few doctors that actually spent some time of their day to get to know their patients. You were pretty sure, you were going to cry as soon as you got to your black G-class Mercedes Benz, closed all your windows and called your boyfriend. You were sure you would call him as soon as your ass landed on the driver’s seat, and you were sure you would start to cry as soon as you heard his soft boyish voice. Because, amongst all of the soft spots in your heart, he owned the softest of them all. And to talk to him was exactly what you needed.

So, when you got to your car and hopped into it, you looked for his name on your contact list on your phone, for the slightest seconds, because he was right on top of it, from how often you contacted him.

‘Dickhead <3’

Calling…

Call declined.

And that’s when you remembered the small petty argument you two had had the previous night.

The night before

You were still seating in the dinner table, a pout on your lips while you tried to count how many plates you’d have to wash. Your boyfriend had already abandoned you to play with his friend, Taehyung, leaving you and the uncountable plates you had to handwash because Jungkook had decided to ruin your dishwasher. You had had a long day and you really weren’t seeing any way you could handwash so many plates all by yourself. So you decided your boyfriend would be your best and most viable solution. So you stood up from the kitchen’s table stool and walked towards the living room’s sofa in tiny weary steps.

“Guk, can you please help me do the dishes tonight?” you asked after sitting next to him, using the cutest voice you could remember and the most adorable face expression you thought he would fall for.

“Nope, today’s your day,” he answered shortly, not tearing his eyes from the videogame one single moment.

“Babe, please, I had a long day.”

“Yeah, me too. Go do the dishes.”

“I helped you do the dishes last week and you never returned the favour,” you pouted.

“Are you seriously going to keep bothering me? I have one moment to relax by myself, and you have to come here and ruin it!”

Your eyes widened, not expecting him to snap at you so quickly, and for something so small.

“I had a hard day, and I haven’t had a moment for myself as well. Can’t you just help me this once?”

You knew you were being bratty and childish and, probably, a pain in his ass. You knew he probably had also had a very tiring day, after all, he’s Jeon Jungkook, Korea’s golden boy. But you were just so tired, and at least the presence of your boyfriend in the kitchen as you two did the dishes, would surely, make the task a lot more enjoyable.

“Is it so hard to do the fucking dishes? Are you that dim-witted?”

You knew he didn’t mean to call you dumb. If someone asked him, on any other day, about what made him fall for you, he would probably answer something about how intelligent you were, but this time you got affected by his comment. Probably because, that same day, your superior had said you weren’t good enough to be a surgeon due to you being late to his presentation – “A good surgeon is never late, maybe you should reconsider your options.”, those were his words.

“Fuck you Jungkook,” you finally said, turning your back on him, deciding to do the dishes by yourself.

“No, fuck you!” he shouted, throwing the controller to the couch after pausing his game.

He stood up, following you to the kitchen in quick heavy steps. He was looking for a fight. You weren’t in the mood to argue right now, so as soon as you got to the kitchen, you decided to forcefully close the door on his face.

He didn’t barge in as you expected - he could be quite explosive. When you finished cleaning the kitchen and went to your shared bedroom, he was already in bed, laying down only in his underwear and playing something on his phone. You took your clothes off - needless to say, he didn’t spare you a glance. Even the next morning, when you two woke up at 6 AM to go to work, you two never said a word and he didn’t kiss you goodbye like he always did.

Two could play that game.

But, truth is, you couldn’t play that game.

You loved him too much. But he had just declined your call and you didn’t know how to deal with that. So you drove home as fast as you could, still not a single tear on your cheeks, and when you finally barged into your shared apartment, you saw Jungkook laying on the couch and watching a movie. He, once again, didn’t spare you a glace, and his face was completely disinterested in your sudden presence.

“Stop being a dick!” you yelled at him, your voice cracking, from how long you had been holding back your tears. His eyes were quickly directed to you, and his eyebrows furrowed when he noticed the shiny look in your eyes, sitting up on the couch, and staying there, unsure of what was happening. Until tears started running freely along your soft blushed cheeks and you took both your hands to wipe them away. That’s when he stood up, and rushed to you, standing in front of you and softly holding your wrists, so he could pull them away from your face.

“What happened?” he asked softly and your sobs only seemed to intensify. He picked you up, holding you tightly in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist and your face hidden in the crook of his neck. Then he sat with you back in the couch and waited for you to calm down, not saying anything. Just rubbing your back and playing with the roots of your hair.

Then you finally calmed down and decided to pull your face away from his neck, to look him in the eye, for the first time in the whole day.

“What happened baby?” he repeated softly, nudging your still wet nose with his own and you looked down, playing with you fingers.

“My life sucks.”

“Why?”

“My week has been a nightmare so far and now you’re a dick and I really wanted to talk to you just now but you declined my call and I really can’t stand you,” you stated, your voice cracking numerous times, and Jungkook chuckled looking at how helpless you looked and you really wanted to slap him, but then he pecked your lips and grabbed the back of your head, bringing it back to his chest and laying down in the sofa, with you on top of him.

“C’mon, tell what got you all worked up…” he muttered playfully, lovingly looking down at you.

And that’s when tears started pouring out of your eyes once again. At some point, you were already uncontrollably sobbing in his chest, your fists grabbing his shirt and Jungkook’s grip on you tighter than before. The look on his face wasn’t playful anymore, and the furrowed brows and worried eyes were back, his full attention on you.

"I-i had the worst day Jungkook," you let out in a tremulous waver. Jungkook encouraged you to keep going, even though no else but him - that had met you for about 9 years now and knew you better than anyone else ever could - would understand a single word that came out of your mouth. "When I started working as a surgeon there were these 2 charts that were handed to me. An old grumpy man named Charles and a 16-year-old girl, Jessica, the typical teenager who thinks she knows it all. They had pretty severe heart diseases and even though Charles didn't even like me at first and Jessica called me an 'ugly bitch' the first day I met her, I took care of them. They went through a lot and they were so strong. I gave so much of myself to make them stay, you know? I worked so hard to keep them safe," you cried and even though Jungkook already knew what this was about, he prefered to let you let it all out, just humming from time to time. "They've been with me since day 1, they've watched me become a better surgeon and a better person overall. They were closer to me than my own friends” You stopped talking for a few minutes, while Jungkook kissed the crown of your head and your breathing calmed down

"Jessica was turning 18 next week. She was a total romantic. I used to talk to her about us." Jungkook smiled. "Most of the times me and you argued, she was the one to tell me what to do. I talked about you to Charles once. He didn’t really like you that much. But I think it was more of a protective instinct than anything else." you paused and Jungkook kissed your forehead, in a way of support. You closed your eyes and sighed.

"They had surgeries today. I mean, I'm not dumb, I knew by their vitals that they weren't going to last as long as I wanted them to, but I just wasn't prepared," you voice started cracking and wavering once again and the tear stains that had already dried out were once again freshly wet. "Surgery was too much for them, I shouldn't have done it," you cried out. " I am so sorry, this was all my fau-"

"It wasn't... It wasn't your fault. You're a surgeon, it's your job and unfortunately, this is a part that comes with it. It's not your fault. You're an amazing surgeon, they knew it and they trusted you with their lives for 2 years. You never let them down, but no one lasts forever and they were no exception. As you said, they all had severe diseases and even though you're a great surgeon, which was proven with how you kept them here for 2 whole years, you can't always conceive miracles. It was not your fault.”

You two kept quiet after that, you knew he was right. Of course, he was, he was Jungkook. You weren't crying anymore and a great part of that was due to Jungkook's back rubs and constant forehead kisses.

“You know, Jessica never had her first kiss” you whispered. “I used to tell her kissing was disgusting anyways, so she wouldn’t feel left behind by other girls her age” you giggled softly and Jungkook stroked your curly hair, smiling.

“Charles was pretty rude at first, we disliked each other for about 2 weeks and then he told me I reminded him of his daughter because she was also the feisty type. They didn’t get along very well. Haven’t talked to each other for two whole years and today I had to call her after the surgery and tell her that her amazing dad had just died on the table. What hurts the most is that she was so unbothered, I was probably way more devastated than her. He was almost like a father to me.”

"They sound amazing," he commented after you stopped talking.

"They were amazing," you muttered and smiled, sighing softly a bit after and looking up to your boyfriend, who was still massaging your back, his hand was underneath your shirt, directly placed on your skin. He knew his touch always calmed you down, even in the toughest of situations. He would always be the one to get to soothe your nerves. You had met him 9 years ago, but every single moment with him still felt like the first. He was the only one who got to see this side of you. He knew how it was behind the scenes. Behind the perfect and intelligent facade laid some painful experiences and he had lived every single one of them with you. He had experienced the sleepless nights before an exam. He had woken up in the middle of the night to find you seated on the living room’s couch with a cup of hot chocolate in your hands and tear-stained cheeks, all this coming from the constant doubt you would never be able to get rid of and that still haunted you today. ‘Am I good enough for this?’ And he would always stay up, reassuring you that ‘Yes, you’re good enough’ and he would repeat that as many times as you needed him to. Because he knew you were good enough. God, you were so much more than enough.

Jungkook loved you beyond question. You meant the world to him. And looking down at you, he couldn’t help but think about the topic that hadn’t left his mind for the whole week. And that had been the cause for the snappy temper you had been obligated to deal with these past days. He had been pestering his members with this same topic too, and they were already sick of telling him to ‘go for it’. He couldn’t stop thinking about it.

What if it’s too soon? How could it be too soon? He had met you 9 years ago and started dating you 3 years after that. Of course it wasn’t too soon.

What if you didn’t want to be committed to him in that way? Jungkook knew you had quite a problem with commitment, you were terrified of getting committed to something for a lifetime. But... damn... You loved him. He could see it behind your eyes whenever you looked at him. Or in the way you’d lay awake in the middle of the night staring at his face, illuminated by the moon’s shine, and thinking he was asleep. Or in the way you were so comfortable with him, to the point of laying on top of him, eating chocolate cookies, wearing white cotton panties and a t-shirt of his that looked way too large on you, probably because you measured only 5′1′’. You both knew that he was your safe space and you were his.

You would never break down like this in public, in front of your colleagues or your superiors. You couldn’t. But with him, you knew you could and you would anytime you needed to. Because with him you knew you were safe. There would never be any judging. He would never make you feel any less for having a human side, a weak side. Instead, he would embrace it with everything he had.

Always.

“Will you marry me?”

#jeon jungkook #jungkook scenarios #jungkook scenario #jungkok bayby #jungkook baby #jungkook masterlist #jungkook #jungkook doctor au #jungkook reaction #jeon jungguk #jungkoo #doctor au #doctor!reader #established relationship #established rp #would you marry me #marriage au #angst #fluff

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cryinginthebackseat · 4 years

Text

initials t.c.

Fandom: Open Heart

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x MC

Words: 7.299 (I’M SO SORRY)

Summary: Tobias Carrick makes Claire an offer she can’t refuse.

Warnings: 50% plot, 50% smut, swear-a-thon, blasphemy

Author’s Note: when the book first introduced us to tobias carrick, the first thing that hit my mind was “okay, but that dude is like the carbon copy of jesse williams and that’s hot” but then, once it reveals who he is and what’s his role in the book i went “interestinggggggg” cause you know, i’m a sucker for morally grey characters and all, and i’m not even ashamed to admit it. also, carrick is shaping up to be such an interesting character with each chapter and maybe one day- okay, maybe this sounds like a pipe dream- but one day, i hope he can be a li (let a girl dream plz) lmao

also if anyone’s interested, i made a PLAYLIST to accompany reading the fic.

the title is inspired by serge gainsbourg’s initials bb

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Cast down off heaven Cast down on my knees I’ve lain with the devil Cursed god above Forsaken heaven

To Bring You My Love - PJ Harvey

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Whenever Claire thinks about Tobias Carrick, admittedly, unfortunately, tragically, she always thinks about his eyes first before remembering what a colossal pain in the ass he is.

It always comes in that order. Like the number 3 always comes before 4, like the seawater dragging back from the shoreline before a tsunami occurs, like pouring milk before the cereal (she honestly didn’t get what the fuss is about until one day Elijah cried ‘oh, hell no you don’t, satan!‘ one morning and proceeded to give her bullet points why pouring the milk before the cereal is considered a sin and more of an abomination than Nephilims’ existence and that there’s a higher probability that she’s a psycho for being a ‘milk first’ kind of person). So apparently, Claire’s a psycho now which explains so many aspects- but she digresses and the point is, the reaction is uncontrollable and she high-key hates how she can’t control her goddamn mind most of the time.

The point is, she needs to stop thinking about him to begin with.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Claire Castelnuovo was born in the summer, under the sign of Gemini. Marilyn Monroe once said that stands for intellect, being a Gemini, but she was too blissfully unaware of this guerdon that she devoted her adolescent years to being outdoors instead. Too many days she spent trampling along the cornfields with her cousins until the skies faded out with brilliant purple-tinged amber and she was carrying a piece of the sun in her skin and smelled like one, stuffing wildflowers inside her boots as she walked around the neighborhood with her dad’s old stethoscope, napping in a hammock with Oasis’ All Around the World on repeat. By the time she hit 15, her black strands had turned brown from repeated sun exposure. She loved it.

But it was a different time, a different place. Somewhere that only exists on the margins of her memories, lost and hidden.

Now, Claire prefers the night.

It’s 9:30 pm when she arrives at a hotel bar in downtown Boston. A newly christened establishment which has somehow become a regular spot for Hemingway’s enthusiasts once the Boston Globe wrote an article about their Hemingway Daiquiri and how, as they wrote it, ‘probably the only place that’s brave and crazy enough to adhere to the 1930s original recipe’ and bourgeois party birds at wee hours during the weekend.

Her eyes are gritty, dry and strange. Her mind’s much worse for the wear- she feels like shit, like in the middle of watching that scene from The Green Mile shit when all is hopeless and you feel like walking out of the theater, but you’ve spent your last savings just to buy the ticket, so you decide to stick through it.

Claire makes a beeline for the bar, tries to flag down the bartender. She orders an Old Fashioned, making sure to specify to double it because she’s not a regular here and he’s not Reggie and that’s how she’s been taking her drink for years.

She knows well deep in her bones that she should be somewhere else. Somewhere more familiar, somewhere where Tim Mcgraw often plays from the subpar speakers, and the rustic wooden bar countertop is gouging and discoloring from the cheap household cleaners and alcohol stains, and her friends are cramming together in the same booth in the back, reveling and laughing until they close the bar down and make a mess all over. Perhaps it’s a mistake coming here, where no one’s a familiar face and the drinks are a tad overpriced for her budget.

But then, perhaps this is exactly what she needs; the unfamiliarity, the visceral feeling knowing that she doesn’t belong here, where no one knows her name and the huge deal of weight she’s currently carrying on her shoulders. Perhaps, she can’t face her friends after what happened, after what Esme has done. Shit, how could any of this happen? Claire knows this all on Esme’s, but her guilt has grown hopelessly tangled with her anxiety. She’s her intern, for fuck’s sake, Claire’s supposed to prevent this from happening in the first place.

Man, where’s Declan Nash when she feels like punching someone in the face?

Claire makes the mistake of drinking her drink too quickly, because it hasn’t been ten minutes and she’s drained half of the content. Then she reaches for her phone in her bag, fiddles with it, absent-minded, equal parts bored before then settles on watching the band performing Art Pepper’s You Go To My Head and immediately thinks of that time she accidentally dropped her brother’s saxophone in a moment of her rather graceless, wine-soaked self with the whole family present.

Someone plops down on the empty stool next to her. Claire’s now scrolling through her phone- again, bored. Sienna commented on the post Elijah shared to the group chat with a few unnecessary-yet-totally-necessary emojis to the already convoluted series of texts and Claire only reads them in silence, not only because her friends’ texting behaviors are too chaotic for her to follow sometimes but she’s not really feeling like talking to anyone right now.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in.”

Famous last words.

Claire freezes in her seat. Her phone’s still glowing in her hand, alighting her features. She recognizes that voice- too well, that is and it’s enough to set off her flight-or-fight response.

She glances up from her phone, preparing for the worst.

Well, what’s presented before her is literally the worst.

“Of all the gin joints…” she says once her eyes find Tobias Carrick sitting next to her, still in his work shirt, sleeves rolled-up, a few buttons undone, reeking of smoke, soap and antiseptic with a shit-eating grin plastered over his face.

She should have gone to Donahue’s instead.

“Evening to you too, Castelnuovo. Drinking your dinner tonight, I see?”

“What, this? No, this is breakfast. 100% daily value of alcohol and pretty much nothing else. I mean, it’s not the weekend without a bad case of hangover and an aspirin snowglobe in the morning, am I right? You know, like a glass of aspirin? Not a literal snowglobe?” she blabbers, realizing just so by the time she hears him snort. Claire chokes down another sip to shut her mouth up. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m about to commit first-degree murder and burn this whole place to the ground,” he drawls, the ever goddamn sarcastic. “What do you think? I’m trying to get dru-”

“No, I mean what are you doing here, of all places? Can’t you get drunk somewhere else?” she interrupts, her midwest accent does funny things to the vowels and consonants- something that only happens whenever she’s in distress, or at least according to Jackie.

“Last time I heard, this joint’s still owned by the Hilton, not a certain junior member of the Diagnostics Team at Edenbrook hospital.”

“Dude, what do you think of the H in Claire H. Castelnuovo stands for?” Deadpan, trying to keep up with the rolling sarcasm, she retorts. He smirks.

“Horatio?”

“Get the fuck out of here,” she mutters, mid-eye-roll, mid-snickering.

He chuckles, his voice rich and smoky amidst the late-night swing and distant chatters. Carrick doesn’t leave, of course, typically him- if those anecdotes Ethan told her has taught her anything about his character, that is- defying everything, scheming his way to the top, the embodiment of ‘those devilish boys with their heavenly eyes’ type your mother warns you about.

Not that the latter is relevant.

“Or what?” His mouth twitches but there’s a hard, challenging light in his eyes that she knows too well by now.

“Or I’m leaving.“ She shoots him a glare. He’s testing her patience- again, like it’s his finesse. Some things never change, it seems.

“Come on, Castelnuovo, don’t be a sourpuss. The night is young and I can promise you, the last thing I am is a horrible drinking buddy.”

With a touch of irony, she replies: “I’m sure. I bet you asked your friends to fill out a questionnaire every time you went out with them, did you?”

Carrick hums.

“You’re funny.” But he says it in the same tone that someone might say Jesus fuck, you’re probably one of the most frustrating creatures I’ve ever laid eyes on. Also, because the next thing he says is: “A little rough around the edges, but funny nonetheless.”

“That makes one of us then.”

Carrick frowns, which is kind of a surprise because she’s half expected him to flash her that signature cheeky grin of his.

“Listen, I’m just trying to make a friendly conversation here. I know we haven’t really seen eye-to-eye with each othe-”

Claire snorts and crosses her arms over her chest. “That, doctor, is an understatement of the fucking century.”

“Okay so, we’re like Tom and Jerry but sans the background music and a naive little duckling running around calling one of us his momma, but I feel like now’s the time to call out a temporary truce between us.” A beat, then: “I heard about what happened with the intern.”

Something flashes across her face- and Carrick must have noticed it, because his face does this odd thing- it softens, even for a moment. She hates it. He’s not supposed to be looking at her like that, not supposed to see her at her weakest state or saved her ass- And Jesus, why does she have to be indebted to Tobias Carrick, of all people- But god forbid, the last thing she’ll ever do is crying in front of him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she mutters, barely audible, trying to temper her fluctuated emotions.

“Then don’t. We can talk about anything else or fall into some sort of endless, meaningless platitudes. Whichever will work.” As if sensing Claire’s lingering hesitation, he adds. “Tell you what, to sweeten the offer, your next drinks are on me.”

She assesses him for a long minute, eyes narrowing. She’s shaking her head, but her mouth, as if against her will, instead says: “Careful, Carrick, there’s a chance I’ll be abusing that offer and run you dry.”

"Hey, if you want to butcher your liver so bad, don’t stop on my account,” he says. “Don’t worry, though, I’ll make sure to save your ass again this time around. Pro bono.”

Claire looks as if she’s just swallowed a dead rat. “Thanks, but no thanks. Death seems more like an appealing choice.”

“Well, I stopped death from interfering then, I’ll stop it again.” Carrick winks, she pretends to gag again yet remains still in her seat, so Carrick waves at the bartender for their order- she orders for a refill and he, a martini and Claire is this close from asking 'shaken or stirred?’ but then remembers who he is and immediately washes the question down with her drink.

“You know, if anyone told me weeks ago that I’d be having a drink with you tonight, I probably would have socked them.“

Carrick is in the middle of lighting his cigarette, but laughs instead. “The Times They Are a-Changin’, as Bob Dylan said.” A puff of smoke escapes his mouth, curling around his fingers. Claire instinctively looks away. “Which reminds me of that one time your mentor sang Ballad of A Thin Man on the fucking subway when we were 20.”

She swivels her head to his direction, on the verge of choking on her drink. “Hold on, hold on, Ethan Jonah Ramsey sings?”

“Give him a dare he couldn’t refuse and a few shots of whiskey, and I promise you he’ll sing like Sinatra on crack.” He grins, his eyes are all crinkled and bright; she thinks that means he’s genuinely amused. “Ah, good times. We were like- wait, who was it he’d like to say we’re like again?”

A small smile pulls at her lips. “Bert and Ernie.”

“Jesus, he really fucking compares us to some Sesame Street characters, huh?” She laughs at that, loud and bright. He does the same. “Personally, I’d always say we were like Butch and Sundance back then- rebels with a cause, a band of misfits, trying to leave our marks on the world. You know those types. We were young, we wanted so much- I still do. I mean, let’s be real, whoever’s wanted to be defeated at their own game?”

A crease forms between her eyebrows, not quite a frown.

“Nobody,” Claire concurs, hating herself for it. “But was it worth it? Betraying the closest thing you had to a brother or a lover…” Carrick coughs on his smoke from the latter. “or whatever in the process just to get what you wanted?” Claire was obviously aiming for that brash, hard-hitting jab, but it lands gloriously too soft.

The bartender finally places their ordered drinks down on the bar. Carrick reaches for it, taking a careful swig, then sets his glass down. He takes a deep breath.

"It’s nothing personal. It never was. I never considered him as my rival.”

“Yeah, but by doing whatever you did, you’ve made an enemy out of him,” she counters. “Look, Carrick, I know we live in a dog-eat-dog world and I know being good sometimes doesn’t get the job done. Perhaps Machiavelli was right. Perhaps, when necessary, you have to be ruthless, dissembling and manoeuvring- what did he say again? ‘The end justifies the means’? But if any worthwhile end can justify the means to attain it, if everyone outright surrenders to their darker side, then what’s left of our humanity?”

For an interminable moment, there is only silence. He simply stares at her, as if she’s a walking, talking Rubik’s cube he can’t solve or a book that he has opened and now he’s got to know so much more and she feels pinned under those warm irises, uneasy.

Suddenly, his mouth begins to take shape; the corners hike up, stretch and then he does the unexpected.

The bastard fucking laughs.

“Excuse me?!” she spits, white-hot anger lacing each word. Carrick laughs harder- the audacity- despite Claire’s growing razor’s edge stare. “Did you just laugh at me? I was being fucking seriou-”

“Sorry, sorry.” Wiping an imaginary tear from his left eye. “I was just remembering Harper’s words. She’s right, you really are on the side of the angels, aren’t you?”

She points at him with her glass, snarling. “And you, mister, are the devil himself with a medical degree and an egg head- and I don’t mean the slang for a highly academic person.”

“Ouch,” Carrick says out loud, still kind of laughing, borderline frowning. “Okay, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“Damn straight. Though you have a lot to apologize for.”

He groans. “Don’t tell me you’re still pissed about that one patient I stole under your nose?”

“The North remembers, ser,” she says, mean-spirited.

“Then does the North remembers that I saved her life?”

“Oh, so you’re discrediting the efforts of the other doctors that helped you make the cure?”

“Alright, alright. You win.” Carrick holds up his hands, the universal gesture of defeat and takes one final drag of his cigarette. He stubs it out, all the while keeping his gaze on her.

“So, how exactly can I make it up to you?“

Claire blinks- once, twice, thrice, realizing his intent. His voice drops an octave and he’s leaning in, close enough for her to notice the constellations of freckles splaying across his face and the way his brown eyes glinted like two shots of whiskey under a stream of light, intense and all-consuming. She feels her mind races, her brains feel as if they underwent a short-circuit and get caught on fire, and the fact that her mind’s on the precipice of exploring the idea is not helping.

A burst of laughter erupts from her throat, not that it’s funny- there’s nothing funny about the situation, but someone ought to diffuse this shift of tension between them, or that was her aim, at least.

“What, you wanna pay me back?” she asks, trying to keep her voice from cracking but failing miserably. Fingers trembling against her glass as she chugs nearly a quarter of her drink in one go.

He notices that.

"A Lannister always pays his debts, does he? If you think that I owe you one, then I’ll gladly pay.” His eyes flick back to her face, searing into her. The air crackles between them. The band is playing a different song now, a sound that only exists on the margin of her attention. If they’re in, say a mid 2000s rom-com movie, someone would probably interrupt this moment and save her from this. But this isn’t a movie.

Claire licks her lips, a candid reaction which encourages him to inch closer- or is it her? She can’t tell anymore. Tracing odd patterns on the palm of her hand with his finger and oh god, this is Carrick, the bane of her fucking existence, she’d shoot him first before she kisses him. But something about the prospect of fucking this bastard twists her insides deliciously into a confused mess.

“How? By fucking me?” she inquires, feigning scandalized- all that Catholic guilt bullshit.

He grins, all-teeth and wolfish and shrugs as if they’re talking about his life insurance policy or shit. “Well, that’s the idea.”

“But you don’t even like me.” It should come out as I don’t even like you, but even she knows that’ll be just another lie she tells.

“On the contrary, I enjoy our rivalry far more than I should, Castelnuovo,” he purrs and places a hand on her knee. Her throat bobs. She’s wearing a skirt, it didn’t seem important then, but now his hand feels warm against her skin, dangling on the edge of impropriety. Like gravity, all it takes is a little push for him to cross that line.

“I should be disliking the way you talk to me, challenging me and putting me on the back foot every goddamn time. I should be focusing on taking you down a peg, but the more I see you, the more I realize you have an attractive kind of power. And I’m just one man. And if there’s anything I learned, the only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.”

But then his movement suddenly ceases. Claire almost asks why.

"However…”

“What?” she stares up at him, eyes wide, breath hitching.

“However if you only accept alcohol as the currency for transactions, then I’ll tell the bartender to get us another round instead,“ he tells her, offering her one last chance to back out from this, from making this mistake with him.

Claire stares into her drink, actually mulling this over. Her mind tells her no, but the other part- the alcohol-infused part of her mind- whispers otherwise. She imagines if Ethan or any of her friends are here, they would probably grab her shoulder and shake the living hell out of her for even reconsidering his offer.

But then again, intelligence, alcohol and desperation have always had a bad history of getting along together.

“What about June?” Claire asks against her better judgement, after a long, considerable pause. Carrick raises a confused brow.

“What about her?”

“I thought you guys…” she trails off, makes a face, feeling all-kind of flustered and aroused and wow, she’s really doing this, huh? “I mean, I don’t know- I don’t wanna get in between you guys.”

“Nah. It was only a three time thing, but there’s never been anything between us.” He chuckles at Claire’s askance look. “If you don’t believe me, you can fact-check it with the woman herself,” Carrick adds, looking at her dead-on with his eyes like he wants to get the message across.

She regards him silently for a long second, and maybe she’s a touch drunk now, maybe the bartender put something in her drink, or maybe she just needs to blow off some steam after what’s been happening in these past few weeks and Carrick happens to be a decent warm body for the occasion, but Claire finds herself shifting closer.

"Then I want you to pay me back.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah,” she answers, more sure this time, more determined.

Her nose bumps his, his breath fanning across her face all the while Carrick’s slightly pushing her skirt up, letting his fingertips travel higher. His eyes keep darting back and forth from her eyes and lips, checking for her reaction. There is no inhibition here, not anymore. People might be watching- heck, they could be already watching and it terrifies her that she doesn’t give a damn about it.

“But if you tell anyone about this, I swear to god… ” she warns and a shadow of mirth passes across his eyes, making her almost regretting this. Almost.

“Claire, darling.” It’s the first time he’s ever said her name and her stomach does a tango. “Your secret is safe with me.“ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He gets them a room in the hotel, it’s on the twentieth floor. Carrick handles the accommodation- he can afford it, apparently, which is not really surprising and the nuisating check-in procedure while Claire only waits in the lobby like a beautiful, agitated china doll amidst the turbulent sea the whole time until he comes back, flashes the room key at her and beckons her to follow.

She goes ahead of him, but he catches up. His body heat sends her anxiety rocketing sky-high through the roof as they walk next to each other, hands briefly brushing against one another but she ignores that (or at least she tries).

They are silent in the elevator, they are silent even once they reach the designated floor and walk down the hall to their room where the dim and shadowed lights follow their steps like vultures.

Carrick holds open the door for her and she enters, taking in the windows and the striking view of Boston skyline peeking behind the curtains, the TV and the queen-sized bed. The latter does nothing to assuage the anticipation that’s bubbling in the pit of her stomach, by the way.

Claire hears him shut the door, locking both bolts. She peers at him over her shoulder, half-turned, one eye on him. Their eyes meet, neither speaks. He’s taking off his black peacoat, back against the door, he’s looking at her as if wanting her is his full-time occupation and the realizations comes in like a mule kick, how that tiny voice inside her head, the one that tells her that this is a bad idea and she’s better off leaving never comes.

The room is not considerably huge (with $110 per night, you would have expected you’d get a bigger room), he could easily have her in six large steps, yet he stands there. Sizing her up, smirking rather devilishly, handsomely as if challenging her to make the first move. It’s another fucking game with him. A display of power, waiting who would fall first.

Claire finally turns around to face him. With a renowned determination, she removes her coat, letting it fall unceremoniously onto the carpeted floor. Her blouse follows next and her skirt, which she tugs it oh so slowly down her legs.

Carrick’s eyes widen, if she doesn’t know better, she thinks he’s speechless. He takes a deep breath, his gaze religiously following every movement as she twirls around once more to unhook her bra. His jaw clenches and unclenches. He’s having a hard time keeping himself in check which she takes an immense pleasure in. Claire just wants to see the man squirm for a change, even if she has to shed every article of clothing she wears.

By the time she slips off of her underwear, she is breathing raggedly. He hasn’t yet approached her so she crawls onto the bed, lying on her back with one elbow props her up, legs crossed. She kicks off her heels, rolls down her stockings with a bit of that noir come-hither, Lauren Bacall-esque heavy bedroom eyes.

Finally, Carrick steps closer until he’s only a hair’s breadth away, like a target, filling her line of sight. The tension in the room is hot enough to send the thermometer reaching its maximum limit and she’s burning, burning, burning right through the core.

Claire cranes her head up to meet his gaze, noticing the way he’s drinking in her body like a pirate ogling a bottle of rum. High-strung, tense, Carrick lowers his head to her, his fingers carding through her long hair. Dimness consumes him raw, his silhouette is starting to find its place amongst the shadows except for his eyes. Never does the fire in his eyes falter, merely alight.

They are already nose-to-nose when Claire suddenly raises her hand over his lips. He withdraws from her, looking confused and hot and bothered.

“Take a seat over there, will you?” She motions to the settee near the bed, her tone leaving no room for argument.

He smirks, but she can see his bravado if faltering. “Ordering me around in the bed now, are we?”

“Didn’t you say tonight is about you making it up to me?”

“Touche, touche.” Carrick straightens his posture and makes his way to the settee across from her, shifting uncomfortably in his seat given the growing issue in his pants.

With eyes still trained to his, Claire cups her own breast, fingers pinching her pebbled nipple before the same hand travels lower down her stomach, her thighs. Carrick leans forward in his seat, obviously liking where this is going before Claire slowly and teasingly part her legs for him to see.

A surprised groan escapes him.

“Jesus, Claire,” Carrick hisses. “Fuck, I didn’t know you’re a goddamn tease.”

She doesn’t bother replying to him, but a winning grin finds its way across her face as she lays on her back, her shame and modesty are distant, knees pulled up so he can have a clear view of her. With two fingers, she runs them along her folds, dragging them slowly up to her clit. Claire imagines they are his fingers- which once upon a time would have horrified her, but tonight, as she repeats the motion over and over, knowing that he’s sitting there, watching her without being able to get his hands on her, she decides to submit to this newfound fantasy.

A rustle pulls her back to reality. He’s undoing his own pants, palming his cock, runs his fingers over the leaking head.

A low moan catches in her throat at that, her gaze snapping up from his erection to his face where his irises have darkened and pupils dilated. He wants to show her, that’s he’s as depraved as her when it comes to wanting, that he fucking wants her and in spades and she fails to think like a normal human being anymore.

Claire uses that image to work on herself harder, faster, feeling the intense pressure beginning to build beneath her fingers. She’s so wet now, despite him being able to see that, she wants him to hear it as well as she uses her idle hand to tap against herself. Carrick growls, his pace matching the rhythm she’s setting.

She slips her fingers inside her, drops her head back against the mattress and bites a loud moan that threatens to escape her lips. Flushing scarlet all over her abdomen, her breasts and up to her neck. Her blood thumping louder than bombs in her ears, her breaths begin to come in gasps.

Another fast and hard thrust from fingers, and Claire finds herself sighing his name.

“Tobias…”

And every last bit of his self-restraint snaps.

In just a blink of an eye, Carrick is already on his feet, grabs her waist, harshly, and tugs her down onto the edge of the bed where he’s now kneeling before her. He doesn’t bother with the teasings or soft kisses or caresses, and even before Claire has the time to register what’s happening, he crushes his face between her parted legs and eats her out.

She gasps, high and fleeting, twisting the bed sheet between her fists while his tongue flicks over her, moving back up, back down, lapping along her folds in the same motions she showed him with her hand, how she likes it. Claire forgets how to breathe. It just occurs to her just how arousing the sight of him on his knees like this, sending her mind hitchhiking into outer space.

“Oh, fuck.” She breathes, back arching on the bed with a drawn-out moan. “Fuck, Tobias!” Her hips gyrate over his mouth and she presses her heels against his shoulder blades. She’s so close. All she needs is a little push to send her careening into oblivion and it seems that Carrick can sense it because he brings two digits to her entrance and slides easily inside her, setting a ruthless pace.

With her hands reaching out to the back of his head, Claire cries out his name and trembles violently. Encouraged, Carrick curves his fingers inside her, hitting that exact spot that finally undoes her as she comes, long and hard, around his mouth and fingers- the kind of orgasm that you can feel deep in your bones- and watches as fireworks dance behind her lids.

When she finally comes down from her high, everything is hazy. It’s like waking up from a deep slumber after a decadent soak in a scented bath and she loses all orientation, until she feels him nipping the inside of her thighs. She hisses, glances down, heavy-lidded eyes finding Carrick is leaving bruises after bruises all over her skin like some kind of a lewd memento of his work, like he wants her to remember this the next time she wakes up in her own bed and he’s not there.

"Are you trying to turn me into a Na'vi, doctor?” She asks, still kinda breathless, feeling surprisingly conversational despite having just experienced, if not, one of the best orgasms in her life. He smiles against her thigh and withdraws from her, only after her thighs are sufficiently bruised enough, licks his fingers clean and stands up at the end of the bed.

“Maybe. You’d make a cute blue extraterrestrial creature, though,” he replies cheekily, then undoes the button of his shirt, showcasing his naked torso.

Claire feels her cheeks heating up again, but forces herself to stare; eyes following his pectoral muscles, down to the toned lines of his abdomen while he slides off of his pants. The man is one fine specimen, alright, and he knows- smug bastard- and she thinks it’s such a shame that Carrick is… well, Carrick. If the man learns how to shut up for one minute or avoid trying to sabotage everyone’s career at Edenbrook altogether, maybe, just maybe, she’d consider him.

“But honestly, I just wanted to hear you say my name again,” Carrick continues, crawling his way up to her, pulling her out of her musings. He settles between her thighs. His lips finding her ear and nibbling at the lobe while his fingers pinching and pulling at her nipple. Claire shivers. Nails scraping along his skin, raising angry marks that would certainly be there tomorrow.

When they kiss, it’s so good that she can’t help but curl her toes. He kisses her like he’s trying to steal her breath or her name. She can taste herself in his mouth, which sparks so many feelings inside her. Her mind’s foggy, sweat pooling on her forehead. Carrick is but shoves his tongue into her mouth, lapping at her, biting, sucking and she leans hard into the kiss, retaliates by scraping her teeth against his bottom lip. It spurs him on. Making his cock twitch against her thigh and Claire decides she can’t wait anymore.

Claire rolls her hips at him. He takes the hint and rolls over to grab a condom from his pants. Then he’s back on top of her, his weight and heat crushing her most deliciously and brings her body further up the bed with him; she drapes her legs around his hips, hands gripping his arms. Her lust and anticipation collaborate to the point of near madness.

Carrick nips the taut line of her jaw and drives himself into her.

They both groan in unison.

“Oh, fuck.” Carrick mumbles between shaky breaths, his face pressed against her throat. “Fucking hell, Claire, you feel so warm.”

Claire, on the other hand, goes rigid under him. Her mouth hangs open and her world narrows down to the feeling of his cock inside her and the pleasure that builds up again in her abdomen.

This is happening, she thinks, he’s inside her and it feels so amazing. She might as well be crazy for agreeing to do this with him in the first place, but the promise of the thrill beats the doubts.

He starts slow, just the smallest fraction of hips, gently thrusting back and forth in shallow motions. She whines, frustrated and impatient, raising her own hips to meet his, but Carrick’s weight pins her onto the mattress and she can’t fucking move.

“F-faster,” Claire stammers, her molars grinding like toothache.

The bastard smirks, like he’s been anticipating the word coming out of her mouth.

“Beg for it.” His words are punctuated with every unhurried stroke he’s giving her, teasing her and if she’s not in the middle of being fucked right now, she would have kicked him in the balls.

Growling, she swallows her plea by pulling Carrick down for another kiss. This time, she’s the one who does the biting and the sucking, making sure he’s distracted enough and then just like with all the things she does in her life, she takes the matter into her own hands.

With all her strength, she scrambles up, pushes him off of her and knocks him onto his back flat on the bed. When she swings her legs to straddle him, his eyes pop.

“Holy shit, you are feisty.”

“Only cause I’m angry and horny,” she bites off. Angling herself above him and with one hand, guides his shaft back to her opening. “And you- you weren’t doing a proper job fucking me.”

He smirks. “I was trying to wind you up.”

“Fuck you.”

She lowers herself and sinks back onto his cock, relishing in his moans and growls.

“Baby, you’re doing it.” His hands curling around her waist, his head falls back onto the bed, exposing his throat and Claire is so hard-pressed not to bite him there.

Claire ignores his smartassness, naturally, and lifts herself, drops back down. Slamming her hips into his until she’s bouncing on him. Nails clawing at his chest. Finally be able to set a pace she desperately craves for, finally wiping that smirk off of his face.

Under her, Carrick is biting his lip in an effort to not to lose control. His hands are everywhere now; her stomach, her breasts, her neck, her cheeks. Leaving fire on its wake. She might still hate him after this is strange, little arrangement is over but at this juncture, he’s exactly the remedy she needs after everything.

Then Carrick wraps his arms around her and picks up the pace, thrusting into her hard and fast. Claire shakes. She can’t catch her breath, her forehead pressed on his shoulder, her teeth latching onto his skin. Breathing a string of 'fuckfuckfuck’ while he squeezes her ass and continues to fuck her with careless abandon.

"Tobias.” Her moans amplify. She’s close to climaxing again, her legs quivering. Eyes wide shut. “Please, please.” So much for not begging.

He pulls her to him so their foreheads meet. Their lips brush against each other, but they aren’t kissing, merely trading breaths. A hand touches her cheek and her lids flutter open, finding his eyes- those depthless, amber eyes that pretty much lead her to this point, are watching her, pulling her in.

“Say it again,” he encourages darkly, face twists in pleasure. “My name. Say it again.”

She does it again, it comes out as a groaned whisper, repeating it over and over again like a sacred mantra.

Her second orgasm sweeps through her, making her spine arches, it tears a winded moan from her throat and it’s more than enough to trigger Carrick’s own release; fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips, groaning gutturally.

Panting, sore but sated, Claire collapses on top of his chest, his arm still drapes around her. The rise and fall of his breath lull her to sleep. Before she knows it, he gently rolls her to his side, pulling the covers for them and kisses her on the shoulder, which comes out as… odd for her.

The bed moves and she feels him leaving.

He’s leaving.

She doesn’t know why it stings, but it does. But also Claire opts not to pay no mind to it and forces her mind to surrender to sleep that once again tries to take hold.

Claire wishes she doesn’t dream of him that night, but she does.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It’s way past midnight when she wakes up. The room is dark. The curtains are closed. She’s still naked and sore under the covers, mind reeling in from what has just transpired.

One might ask in which universe does Claire Castelnuovo agree to sleep with Tobias Carrick? Well, apparently they did it in this one and oddly still, she doesn’t regret it. Though she’s still low-key sad that he left her straight after sex, but hey, what can she do about it? This arrangement itself is nothing but a means to an end, anyway, a perverse alternative for him to pay back what he allegedly owes her, she shouldn’t be surprised if he left after the ‘debt’ is paid.

Feeling her mood somehow takes an unexpected dip, she gets us from the bed and gathers her clothes on the floor.

She’s in the middle of zipping up her skirt when the bedside lamp flickers and comes on.

Claire turns around. Carrick, rousing from sleep, looks at her, rubbing his eyes and stifles a yawn. His lips still tinged from her kisses and bites.

“Leaving so soon?” he asks, voice still raspy from sleep and Claire thinks her mouth is hanging open, standing rooted to the spot like a spider on an icicle; frozen in time.

For a moment, she does nothing but stares at him, being rendered speechless. For many times, Tobias Carrick never fails to surprise her. Just when she thinks she has him all figured out, he comes sneaking in through her windows like a thief in the night and it just strikes her, how he really is an uncharted territory for her. Despite her having him pinned under her, exploring the hard planes of his body under the touches just a few hours ago.

The man is like a fucking myth, at this point. She knows him only from stories and her limited time around him, but who is exactly Tobias Carrick? Is he the competitive doctor at Mass Kenmore, the Machiavellian asshole that severed his friendship/relationship with Ethan for the sake of his greed and ambition? Or is he, Tobias Carrick, the man who saves her life, makes her laugh and kisses her shoulder in the afterglow?

She’ll probably never know.

“Yeah, my roommates will probably deploy a search party if I don’t come home tonight,” she replies, distracted, finally finding her own voice back. He nods, feigning disappointment- or is he not? She clears her throat and continues putting on her clothes. “I thought you left.”

He chuckles at the absurdity of her deduction. “And without saying goodbye?” Carrick rolls off of the bed and rises to his feet. He’s already wearing his pants- thank fuck for that- and approaches her. “I may be an asshole, Castelnuovo, but just so you know, my mother raised me better than that.”

So they’re back to their usual last name basis perimeter. That’s good, right? After all of this, she thinks a little familiarity would be nice for her sanity.

“Good to know, then.”

Silence encompasses the room. It’s awkward and overwhelming and it throws her a little off-balance. At the bar, they seemed to know exactly what to say to each other- especially him; but now, even she can sense the hesitation in his gait, at the way he’s looking at her and a faint alarm is trilling her head. Because if he’s making this awkward, she can do a whole lot of worse.

"Oh, before you ask, that makes up for pretty much everything, yeah. I mean, it’s alright.” You fucking dumbass, she thinks to herself, averting his gaze while a smile blooms on his face.

“Good to know, then.” He parrots her words and she huffs a laugh, freely and sweetly, like she’s currently not knee-deep in her problems or she’s just fucked the most incorrigible man that ever exists. He does too, but his gaze lands on her mouth before going back to her eyes.

Another silence passes. It’s time to go.

“I have to go now.”

He nods mutely and moves away so Claire can step past him.

She wears her coat. In the mirror, she still looks thoroughly fucked; her hair’s dishevelled, she smells like him now, but she really needs to go. She promises herself that this will be a one time thing because, Jesus fuck, she’s supposed to be smarter than this. She’s not fifteen anymore, and this is not the summer where she can watch the sunset from the cornfields with her cousins even though his eyes possess the same color.

Yet she walks toward the door in a daze, like she’s forgetting something but can’t pinpoint what it is.

“Can I-”

“Hey, do you-”

She stops, mid-turning, and closes her mouth. She doesn’t realize she’s interrupting him.

“Oh, sorry,” Claire says, embarrassed. “You go first, it’s alright.”

“Can I have your number?” he asks, uncharacteristically hesitant.

She thinks he’s joking or maybe he’s just feigning interest, but one look at his eyes and she can tell that this isn’t smoke and mirrors.

The eyes, chico. They never lie. It’s dumb, but that line from Scarface is the first thing that comes to her mind. That’s why when she hands him her phone, her hand is shaking slightly. She has to bite her lip to stop herself from grinning like a maniac.

Claire takes a cursory glance at her phone once he returns it. He saved his number solely as t.c. with the water drop, the syringe, the ghost, the eggplant, the firework emoji and she chuckles endearingly, questioning the universe how he can easily get both a rise and a laugh out of her.

“I’ll text you?” Carrick asks again and she nods a little too enthusiastically at it, but what the hell?

“Sure.”

“Alright.” He takes one look at her, steps closer and for a moment, she thinks he might be going to kiss her.

“Goodnight, Claire,” Carrick says instead and she nods, admitting the fact that he’s not going to do it.

“Goodnight to you too, Tobias.” Then pauses at the doorway, feeling surprisingly bold. “I gotta give it to you, though, for someone who’s become the bane of my existence for months, you’re a damn good lay.”

He barks out a laugh, obviously, that Claire can hear all the way down the hall. And she thinks she can get used to the sound.

fin.

Tag list: @villain-fuckarooni @beckaroo @arfeiniel @this-person-is-busy @colossalpainintheass @drethanramslay @hatescapsicum @theeccentricbibliophile

#playchoices #open heart #tobias carrick #tobias carrick x mc #open heart mc #oh mc #pixelberry #choices stories you play

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walker-journal · 3 years

Text

Clocks and Cyrophoenix (Adam +Alfie- POTW)

Characters: Alfonzo Ramirez (Phoenix- Annie), Adam Walker (Hunter-Tapir)

Summary: The search for Nell continues in a frost dimension where Adam meets a grouchy charmander.

Content Warnings: head trauma

One minute Alfie was walking back to his apartment from a quick stop at the mailboxes, and the next he found himself at the edge of a cliff. His heart lurched into his throat as he reeled back in the nick of time, barely evading what was most certainly a fall to his death. Loose rocks beneath his feet tumbled over the precipice.

Wild eyes frantically took in his new surroundings; colossal pillars stretched beyond the void overhead. The air hummed menacingly along with the echoes of animalistic grunts — the source of which were out of sight. Frost covering the ground turned to sludge underneath his feet as condensation formed from his breath.

This wasn’t the elevator.

“Son of a bitch,” Alfie breathed, stumbling backwards as he shook the slush from his shoes. His day was going so well up until now. He turned slowly, trying to get his bearings on the unfamiliar environment. If there had been an outlet, it was long gone, leaving only a winding ravine behind him. He was left with no choice but to follow it in hopes of getting out of whatever hellscape he’d been thrust into.

He knew he should have taken the stairs today.

A figure dropped down from the edge of the ravine in a rush of white, beige, and glistening metal spikes. The assailant was dressed in the pale camo of arctic warfare gear, the darker colors of bandoliers and a goggled helmet were the only parts of their silhouette distinct from the surrounding snow. Black blood already drenched the tips of the two surgically sharp ice picks the attacker wielded in each hand. A shadow fell over Alfie as those brutal points descended towards his skull.

Yet the figure’s deadly blitz was broken by a sudden hesitation. The arctic soldier veered away from Alfie, sliding down onto the ravine bottom in an awkward stumbling gait as they tried to work off the momentum of the aborted assassination.

Two gloved hands reached up to lift opaque black goggles up from squinting brown eyes.

“Alfie?”

If Alfie thought his situation couldn’t get any worse, he was wrong. He hadn’t been travelling through the ravine for more than five — ten? fifteen? — minutes before being ambushed. He was completely unaware of anything lurking above until it was too late.

As the figure dropped into his field of vision, Alfie staggered backwards. With a piercing yelp, his back hit the ground and he scrambled to regain his footing. Not that it would have helped him any, but he was prepared to bolt away until the hulking silhouette gave pause and spoke his name.

He sat there, dumbfounded, as his eyes focused on the form of… a man? No — not just any man, but an irritatingly familiar one at that.

“Adam?!” Alfie questioned, incredulously.

What kind of fever dream was this? First, the elevator-turned-hell-dimension, and now Nell’s boyfriend was here? In all fairness, it could have been far worse. Still, he was floored.

“Uh, not to sound rude or anything,” Alfie said, pushing himself to his feet as the melting ice ferociously nipped at his skin. “But what the fuck?”

“The fuck today is that your ass is in Ice Hell,” Adam said, pointing one bloody ice pick up towards the sky.

At first the sky appeared to be filled with moons, hundreds upon hundreds of pale lunar shapes, some of which loomed so large over the horizon that collision seemed possible. However more scrutiny revealed them to planet-sized icebergs floating in a frigid voice. Titanic ice bridges stretched across the emptiness between some of the colossus ice shapes in the sky, forming a glittering lattice which refracted light in dizzying refractions, casting everything in an eternal glittering twilight.

“Thought you might be another demon or one of the heat-drinker corpses when I picked up your vibes,” the Hunter explained. “But hey man! You're alive and not a chest burster alien! Sweet!”

“Ice Hell,” scoffed Alfie. That was just his luck, wasn’t it?

As he wiped his damp hands against his jeans, Alfie’s gaze followed Adam’s gesture to the sky above. He had been so preoccupied earlier by how he was going to get back home that he didn’t even notice the moons gleaming above. It was beautiful — or as beautiful as a hell dimension could be; not that Alfie had any experience with them.

His eyes fell back on Adam as he let out a disgruntled sigh. The palms of his hands ached as a result of the ice melting beneath his touch, but at least he still had his life. All things considered, it could have been much worse. Like being impaled with one of the Hunter’s menacing ice picks.

“Yeah, for now,” Alfie huffed. “Appreciate the whole… not killing me thing.” The same could have been said even in White Crest. Why Nell thought dating a Hunter was a good idea was beyond him, but at least she’d managed to keep the Ramirez family secret under wraps for this long. Still, Alfie didn’t trust Adam as far as he could throw him — which meant he didn’t trust him at all.

“You don’t happen to know how to get the hell out of here, do you?”

“Neat trick,” Adam observed with feigned casualness as he watched the snow melt at Alfie’s touch. “How’re you doin that? It’d definitely save on hand warmers.”

“No problem man,” the arctic soldier replied with a grin, meeting Alfie’s barbed sarcasm with the blunt force of supposed earnestness. Adam had learned that passive aggressiveness was best met by taking everything they said literally. It was one of those private little games the footballer liked to play under the guise of thuggish dull-wittedness.

“Sure thing dude.” Adam took a few steps back and pointed up...and up….and up behind Alfie.

Both men stood in the shadow of a mountainous glacier. From the center of the behemoth mass of ice rose Voorhees Clocktower, towering above the demon wastes as if it were the last visible landmark of White Crest remaining after the Earth succumbed to polar night. Whether the frozen clocktower were some kind of copy or somehow an extension of their world into this dimension Adam couldn’t really say.

“The exit of this nut-freezer locker is at the top of the clocktower,” Adam supplied.

Leave it to Adam to notice the ice turn to slush at Alfie’s touch. He knew he needed to be careful about what he said to the other man, but finding the balance between an acceptable excuse and being suspicious was a difficult thing to manage. For a moment, Alfie considered lying that he was a spellcaster. He knew enough about them to potentially fake it, but he also had a feeling that Adam knew just as much — if not more — about spellcasters than he did.

“Trust me, it’s not that great,” Alfie answered dismissively. Regulating his body temperature was a helluva lot more difficult when his skin screamed out in pain from the damage the snow inflicted. On the other hand, if he didn’t regain some kind of control over it, he’d have much bigger problems than rousing Adam’s suspicions.

Alfie’s jaw dropped when Adam drew his attention to the clock tower. No way in hell — no pun intended — was he going to make it up there on his own. Especially not if he had more than being mistaken for a demon to be worried about. He remembered the mention of “heat-drinker corpses” and swallowed hard. So much for being alive.

“I’m gonna take a wild guess and say there’s not a bridge or anything up there, huh?” Alfie quipped. Wishful thinking. “Say, Adam… You’re not busy by any chance, are ya? I could use a tour guide if—” His words were abruptly cut by a blood-curdling screech. Eyes wide, Alfie froze.

“What the hell was that?” sputtered Alfie; the words jumbling together and coming out almost incomprehensible.

“One those No-face-yetis,” surmised Adam, without much sign of surprise.

The ravine walls merely came up to the hips of the figure that stepped down into the gulch, tall enough to easily discern at a distance. It seemed both skeleton and insectoid, a vague humanoid shape whose exposed bones seemed as much chitinous exoskeleton as they were ossein. As the Hunter had said, the ‘Yeti’ had no facial features of any kind, only a long toothless slit down the entire center length of its body that parted and closed in long rasping breaths. Its arms hung down nearly to its feet, all its cadaverously slender limbs tipped with long claws that seemed merely an extension of its chitinous bones. Dark hair clung to the patches not covered in exoskeleton, forming a black mane that rippled in the arctic wind.

“I named that one Jasper-Rasper,” Adam informed Alfie, as if this were the most important point as he frantically motioned for Leah’s nerd brother to run like hell.

“No-face-yetis,” Alfie repeated; testing out the words to see if that would help them make more sense. It didn’t. Seeing the beast in the flesh was just as surreal. But he had to admit, Adam’s description was upsettingly accurate.

Alfie was already worse for wear. There were blisters forming on his hands where he pushed himself off of the ice; his elbows, too, were inflamed from the contact during his fall. But he had no intentions of dying — especially not here.

“You gave it a pet name?” he asked incredulously, shooting the other man a look of disbelief. “I’m not sure if that helps,” Alfie quipped. Either way, he wasn’t about to stand around long enough to find out. The moment Adam gestured in the opposite direction of ‘Jasper-Rasper’, Alfie pivoted sharply. The soles of his shoes disagreed with the texture of the ground as he ran back down the ravine.

Just when he thought he was safely out of reach, the earth trembled beneath him. Bleary eyes did their level best to concentrate on the path ahead. The way was blocked. Not by one, but two menacing creatures, far smaller in stature than the burly yeti. Alfie’s heart leaped into his throat and he skidded to a halt. Curious heads rose from the center of precariously slumped shoulders. For a moment, they didn’t seem to notice him standing frozen in his tracks. A cloud of smoke formed as Alfie’s breath mixed with the frigid air. Suddenly, the figures bolted towards him.

Without thinking, Alfie allowed adrenaline to take control of him. His arms raised, palms facing the pair of demons charging down the ravine. Flames sprouted from his fingertips and spread to his wrists. Alfie braced himself, daring them to come any closer. He couldn’t rely on Adam to save him. He wouldn’t. He was going to get the hell out of here and pull his own weight doing so.

Apparently Alfie was a grouchy charmander, but death was approaching too quickly for Adam to question it.

“Uh oh, Mantis Dogs, watch out for the grabby claws, they’ll pull you under and rip you apart with the other legs.”

The ‘Mantis Dogs’ in question were demonic hexapods with a pair of raised forelimbs. Their bodies were covered in shaggy fur whose extremely pale shade of blue blended in well with the glacial ice of the ravine. Although their six legs were vaguely canine, the bone spurs on the back of their limbs were long and hooked for snagging prey in a deadly grapple. Drool dripped from eager panting mouths surrounded by a ring of faceted sapphire eyes. Spined raptorial legs like those of a mantid extended from the lesser demon’s hairy shoulders, lunging out at Adam as the closest of the insectile canines came within grabbing range.

Conscious of the giant faceless approaching them from the rear, Adam dropped to his knees as the demon’s mantid claw thrashed at the thin air where his shoulders had been moments before. The Hunter swung one of his ice picks and lodged it in the demon’s side, carved a long furrow that seeped noxious white blood as the creature’s momentum sent it careening past him.

Alfie hated it here. He hated the cold. He hated the snow. He hated the various hell-beasts there were wandering around that wanted to kill him. Not to mention that there were evidently monsters running around that fed off heat and would surely suck him dry.

As Adam effortlessly tussled with one of the Mantis Dogs, Alfie concentrated on the other. Clearly, the flames weren’t keeping either of the creatures away. He flinched as the second Mantis Dog lurched forward with bared teeth. Reflexively, Alfie flicked his wrists and two orbs of fire hurdled towards the beast just as it launched itself into the air for its attack.

Alfie stumbled backwards with labored breaths, narrowly dodging the marred body whirring past. The world around him was a blur and his heart pounded in his chest. Putting out that much energy was draining enough in a normal environment. But here? With his hands and elbows already blistered by the ice water, he was already weaker than usual.

The screams of the hexapod intermingled with the ringing of his ears. Slowly, Alfie’s eyes focused on the scene unfurling before him; a thrashing heap of flame and fur as the creature screeched in agony. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he admitted. His eyes fell back on Adam before he glanced over his shoulder to the faceless yeti behind them.

“What now?” he asked shrilly.

“Into the caves Charmander,” Adam shouted as he buried an ice-pick hilt deep in one of the Mantis Dog’s forelimbs and twisted the weapon. There was a sickening crack as the mantid claw snapped, dangling from a few tendons as the insectile canine howled in agony.

But pain shuddered up through Adam’s leg as he drove the other pick deep into one of the Mantis-Dog’s pupil-less blue eyes and kicked the creature off him. He looked down to see one of the demon’s hooted leg spurs had gotten him on the thigh. It was just a graze, but with how sharp demonic claws were that’d been more than enough to slice a laceration down his leg and rip open his arctic gear to the cold.

Shit shit shit, not good.

But a huge shadow fell over the ravine and Adam didn’t have time to think about that. A rush of displaced air let the Hunter know what was coming without having to look up.

“Alfie heads up!” Adam ignored the agony in shooting up his leg as he sprinted towards Leah’s dumbass brother. With no time to explain, the footballer slammed into Alfie with a full bodied tackle, slamming him against the ravine’s ice wall.

Jasper the Rasper’s taloned hand slammed down where both men had been seconds before. The impact of the giant’s blow carved a deep fissure into the ravine’s floor. More jagged ruptures spiderwebbed outward from the broken crater and shuddering cracks wracked the ice walls. For a moment all Adam could see was Jasper’s silhouette looming against the sky of drifting icebergs. Even while kneeling down in the aftermath of pile-driving a hole in the ice, this No-Face Yeti was easily the size of a Harris Island mansion, a rolling hill of insectile chitin and black fur. Jasper’s body-length mouth yawned open sideways, each gasping breath turning the ravine into a wind tunnel.

“C’mon,” shouted Adam over the thunderous rasping. “We gotta head into the caves,” he claimed, pointing to gaps in the ice at the clocktower glacier’s base.

Before Alfie could even wrap his head around being called “Charmander”, a searing pain wracked his entire body. Adam was on top of him faster than he could force his legs to run. The ice burned cold against his skin as Alfie, wheezing, struggled to his feet. If he had to guess, one or more of his ribs were broken and he’d need several weeks to properly heal from the water damage. But it was better than the alternative. Dying wasn’t on his itinerary — granted, neither was being sucked into another dimension made to kill him.

This was the second near-death experience he’d had in the past few weeks; third in the last couple of months. But at least his life still made a little bit of sense then. At least back then he still had his friends. It was bullshit. All of it. "This is bullshit," Alfie thought aloud. Eddie. Nell. Dying in general. Dying in Ice Hell with no one but Adam there to know about it.

Rage boiled inside of him as Alfie staggered forward. For a moment, no amount of broken bones seemed to matter. Flames licked at his skin — patches missing where the ice bit into him. Fuck this dimension. Fuck this yeti-looking son of a bitch. He was losing control.

In one final blow, Alfie hurled a massive ball of fire towards the giant’s feet, immediately regretting it when he nearly collapsed onto Adam. Panting, he braced the Hunter’s shoulder, never minding his scorched clothes or Adam’s own mangled clothing. “C’mon,” he tried to encourage as his feet feebly carried him forward. His head was swimming. He was weaker now than moments before. “I’m not dying here. Clocktower, right?” He could make it. He had to.

Jasper the Rasper’s thunderous gasps echoed after Adam as he led the way towards the caves. The Mantis Dogs had regrouped and gave chase across the shattered obstacle course of the ravine. Pain shot up Adam’s leg as he vaulted over toppled ice shelves and fissures. He tried to make sure Alfie followed after him, though it was hard to concentrate on anything as the No-Face Yeti wrenched itself free of the ice and began moving with a strange rolling after the tiny thing that'd burned it.

Adam ducked into a vertical crevice in the ice, beckoning Alfie in as he slashed at the pursuing Mantis Dogs with his picks.

“I’m going to die in here, aren’t I?” Alfie asked once he was (somewhat) safely tucked away in the ice behind Adam. He was trembling from head to toe; his battered side screamed its pain while his ice-kissed skin told its own blistering tale. If the monsters of this dimension didn’t kill him, it wouldn’t take much for the Hunter to piece together what he was and finish the job himself. By now, the other man had seen enough of Alfie’s powers to have some inclination, and his skin burning from the slush of ice wasn’t doing him any favors. He briefly wondered if it would be better this way. At least then he wouldn’t have to worry about the curse awaiting him in the real world. “Don’t… don’t answer that,” he feebly amended.

When his eyes fell on Adam’s leg, Alfie’s stomach sank. He could fix that. At the very least, saving Adam might bring Nell back. “You’re looking for her, aren’t you?” Alfie asked, not bothering to elaborate. “I’m… I don’t think I can be of much use in here anymore, but I can try. Just… tell me what I need to do. What can I do?”

“Nah your sister would kill me if I let you die here, like...its super rare that fire chickens get to live with their kind or something like that,” Adam assured as he backed further into the cave system, keeping an eye on the wounded Mantis Dogs prowling around just outside the cavern’s entrance.

Alfie’s correct surmise drew a sidelong look from Adam followed by a nod. “Yeah, I’m trying to track the thing that took her,” the Hunter confirmed. “It’s a longshot but ….” He took off his googled helmet and ran a hand through sweaty brown hair. “Fuck its all I’ve got.”

Adam took a moment to consider Alfie’s offer, looked up towards where the cavern systems led up to the frozen clocktower and out to where demonic canines and a titanic yeti were raising hell. “First we need to get you out up to the Portal in the clocktower.”

Adam reached beneath his environment suit and undershirt, to pulled out a key on a length of cord. Comprised of scarlet coral, the key filled the cavern with a red bioluminescence that gleamed off the slick ice walls. “Our clues to whats going on a giant velvet worm that can go through dimensions, these keys, and the portals. I’m gonna keep looking for Nell but it won’t mean much if we don’t figure out how to seal the rifts.”

Adam placed the coral key back around his neck and tucked it underneath his clothing. “Honestly? Thats where folks back home could use the most help.”

Fire chickens. Oh, so Adam already knew. Alfie wasn’t sure whether he was more relieved or concerned, but ultimately decided that he was grateful. At least he didn’t have to keep worrying about slipping up in front of the Hunter. Leave it to Leah to inadvertently save the day.

As Alfie trailed close behind Adam, a frown formed on his face. After the uncomfortable conversation with Luce about Nell’s disappearance, Alfie thought it was best to back off entirely, but it didn’t stop him from worrying. Nell had been his best friend for years, after all. They may have had their own separate lives now, but he would never stop caring for her. “What exactly happened, anyway?” he ventured to ask. “I mean… What took her? Why?”

His eyes followed Adam’s gaze, falling on the clocktower that seemed all too far away at this point. If the other man had kept him alive this long, then Alfie just had to trust he knew what he was doing. Even still, he couldn’t stop thinking about Nell. What horrors was she facing where she was? Was she even still alive? It wasn’t fair that Adam would save him first.

Alfie scoffed at the idea of him being able to help close any godforsaken rifts. Until now, everyone had made it clear enough that things were under control. But weeks had passed since then and Nell still wasn’t home. It seemed hopeless. At least, that’s how Alfie saw it. “Yeah, I’ll— I’ll talk to Leah about it, then.” It was becoming a recurring theme these days.

“But what about those things?” Alfie practically shrieked, gesturing to the hellscape presently waiting for them. “How the fuck am I— are we supposed to get through that?”

“We were on our goodbye-it's-armageddon date when this portal opened up and evil alien gribblies everywhere,” Adam explained before lunging forward to swing an ice pick down at the clawed forelimb of a Mantis Dog that’d gotten to close inside the cave entrance. “We fought them and got the civilians to safety but a giant Hell Worm grabbed Nell when she was trying to close the portal.”

Adam nodded to one of the safety lines stacked to the wall that he’d set up earlier to spelunk his way up through the tunnel system. “I’ve set up lines that we can us to pull ourselves up to the clocktower. We’ll have to make it past Grabby Gabby, but it’s probably the fastest way home.”

Alfie’s brow raised at the mention of an armageddon date — a goodbye one at that. It was almost as if they were expecting to get themselves killed. But what did he know? If given the chance, Alfie would probably take the opportunity to spend time with someone he loved in the midst of the world crumbling, too. “A giant Hell Worm,” he tittered, running his palm down the length of his face. Knowing the nitty-gritty details of Nell’s disappearance didn’t make him feel any better. If anything, he felt worse.

“That sounds… dangerous,” Alfie remarked once Adam took the opportunity to explain his emergency route to safety. He felt drained enough as it was and heaving himself up the side of a cliff made out of frozen water didn’t sound ideal. What other choice did he have at this point? “After you, I guess.”

Adam produced a flashlight and affixed it to his helmet. He offered a carabiner to Alfie so that he might latch himself onto the safety line before beginning to climb hand over hand up the slick incline. He led the way up ice shelves and hacked his way through the perpetual forests of icicles that formed strange silent forests in the tunnels. The expeditioners’ reflections were cast in dim distortions through the caves, and Adam occasionally raised a hand for a halt and flicked off the light as much larger shapes momentarily drifted across the ice, or even directly through it in some cases.

“So, have you and Leah always been together? Did you like, rule Rome or something back in the day,” Adam asked as he washed a massive many-limbed shape swim through the ice below them as if where a whale drifting in the ocean.

Hooking himself onto the line behind Adam, Alfie cautiously trailed behind him. As much as he tried to mirror Adam’s every move, he couldn’t help but envision a tragic death for the both of them when his eyes wandered for too long. His knees buckled underneath him, threatening to make his fears become a reality before Adam spoke up.

“Not always, no,” Alfie mindlessly replied. His eyes shot back up to Adam on the line ahead of him once he realized he’d said too much. As far as Alfie was aware, Leah wasn’t privy to this sort of information herself. “I mean… we’ve been around each other for as long as I can remember, but unless one of our parents has something to hide, I think it’s safe to say we’re not fully related.” Alfie wasn’t sure if this was making things better or worse for his case.

“Like you said before, it’s pretty rare for… people like us to stick together.” Despite the fact that Adam knew, Alfie still couldn’t bring himself to say the word ‘phoenix’ in front of him. “Definitely didn’t rule ancient Rome together, though. I don’t think either of us have been around that long.” As grateful as Alfie was for the distracting conversation, he wasn’t particularly keen on discussing the nitty-gritty details of his heritage. Partially because most of what he did know was from stolen property, but also because it only begged more questions about why he was fated to die sooner than the rest of his family.

“I am much disappoint,” pronounced Adam with false solemnity, “I was all ready to here the secret history of Emperor Phoeligula….Chickligula?...Spartunix?”

The spelunkers no longer how to crouch as they passed into a cave that abruptly expanded into a vaulted ceiling of stalactites that glittered like crystal chandeliers in the lamplight. The cavern’s sweeping floor was riven by jagged fissures tens of feet in width with the spider-webbing cracks of impact that expanded outward from the far side. It was as if something massive had exploded into this part of the glacier but time and relentless arctic conditions had frozen it over. At the far end of the cavern was an ornate door set in worked stone, a mirrored entrance to Voorhees Clocktower

“Well here we are….gotta see if Grabby Gaby is up.”

For a moment, Alfie stared at Adam incredulously before murmuring a soft, “Uhhh…” But as he heaved himself onto more solid ground, he chose to drop the subject altogether. “Trust me, if I remember anything like that, I’ll hit you up,” he stated instead.

With a quick look around, Alfie shirked away. He’d been so eager to get out of this hellscape the moment he arrived, yet even with the exit in sight, something felt off. The first time Adam mentioned ‘Grabby Gabby’, Alfie falsely assumed that it was yet another affectionate nickname for one of the beasts he’d already been introduced to. Now he was much less certain. “Let me guess,” he said, taking a few uncertain steps forward. “Gabby isn’t as social as Jasper? But still has a tendency to not let any houseguests leave?”

“Pretty much” Adam looked at the fissures for a time before turning back to Alfie. “Do you have any fireballs left in you?”

Great, Alfie thought. That was reassuring. “Maybe one or two,” he reluctantly replied. His palms turned upwards as he gave Adam a shrug. Better to save his energy for when it counted most. “Just tell me when.”

Adam motioned for Alfie to follow after re-bandaging his leg with some cloth from his bag, trying to staunch the wound enough to make the run.

Adam wove a precarious path among the ice fissures as black tentacles exploded upward. Each of the sinuous limbs were covered by electric blue fern-like structures instead that splayed out into delicate coils. The tentacles snaking after Adam, their bioluminescent fern hairs incandescently beautiful in the darkness. Soon they seemed to be running through a rubbery forest of black trees with glowing frond branches.

“If you have any fire left that’d be great,” shouted Adam as he sliced open tentacles with scything swings of his picks.

As soon as Adam kicked it into gear, hulking into the face of danger, Alfie followed suit. But nothing had prepared him for the mass of tendrils awaiting them. Had it not been for Adam’s exhortation, he would have frozen amongst the beast’s tentacles and met his fate. “Yeah, yep… workin’ on it!” he called back. Mustering whatever energy he had left in him, Alfie willed his hands to spark.

Alfie narrowly dodged a glittering pillar of black that whirred past him, just before releasing a fiery orb, striking further down the monster’s tentacle. There wasn’t much time for him to recoup. With the clock-tower well within his sights, he had to push himself. He might not be able to save Nell, but he could at least live another day to see her, and help get Adam to safety in the process.

Another ball of fire shot from the palm of his hand as he weaved through it, jumping over the beast’s appendages as needed. “What’s the situation over there?” Alfie croaked, trying his level best to keep his voice free of desperation.

“Go go go! She’s a c’moning oh shit!

Adam carved a path of blue blood through the forest of tentacles, ducking away from the impacts of Alfie’s fireballs before charging though the withered stumps to those closer to the door. But the cavern kept filled with more and more undulating coils and glowing cilia ferns as Grabby Gabby’s true horrific body began to emerge from the depths of the fissures.

“Don't look back, just go!”

Adam desperately beckoned Alfie through the door as tendrils slithered greedily after. He slammed it shut just as the cavern filled with a sound like the wind screaming as it was cut into pieces.

#adam #alfie #chatyz #Portal Combat #head trauma tw #yikesimonfire

13 notes · View notes

valwrite · 4 years

Text

leap frog; daveed diggs

masterlist.

summary: rafael casal can’t keep a secret. (read the sequels: hopscotch, hide & seek.)

warnings: possible second hand embarrassment, fluff, mentions of murder, cursing

fic type: drabble

word count: 2366

author’s note: ahaha, i hate myself for writing this but i also love it, gn. feedback is appreciated! oh, and if i don’t reply to a comment or something, it’s just cause i’m dumb as shit and haven’t figured out how tf to do that yet 🥰

It was official. Y/N L/N was going to murder Rafael Casal.

And, boy, would she make sure it looked like an accident.

The man was a nuisance, a mad man, a big mouthed buffoon. And the reason she now had to avoid one Daveed Diggs at all costs from here on out. Considering Rafael lived just one door down from her made this a challenge, as Daveed had a habit of treating the other man's apartment as a second home.

The trouble began two weeks prior, when, after a miserable night out, Y/N had stumbled into the building elevator, feet aching to get out of her heels and breasts desperate to be freed from their confinement. Before she'd had the chance to press her floor button, a hand slid between the closing doors and in stepped Rafael Casal. The two exchanged glances and greetings before riding up to their shared floor in a comfortable and welcomed silence. Had this exchange taken place three months before, perhaps Y/N would have felt a lot more awkward and intimidated by her attractive neighbor. However, things had changed between them ever since they'd become friends. She'd tag along on nights out with his friends (who'd seamlessly welcomed her in as one of their own) and he'd come round for dinner every time he so much as smelt her cooking from next door. The elevator had reopened and the hallway they shared came into view. That was when Rafa made the proposal she'd end up regretting: “Do you wanna come in for a few drinks?”

She'd accepted because, well, it was free alcohol. The fact that his company was anything but bad was just an added bonus. A few drinks turned into many, even some shots finding their way into the mix of things, as she and Rafa talked the night away: she shared details of the horrible blind date she'd been set up on that evening while he ranted about how insufferably boring Daveed had been, claiming the man hadn't brightened up the whole night after hearing Y/N would not be in attendance at their get-together. She was sure her cheeks had turned as red as they'd felt when Rafa made that revelation.

The real mistake came towards the end of their drinking session and, really, neither of them knew how to explain how or why they wound up locking lips. What they did know was the following: it was a meaningless kiss, both of them laughed right after and it had been the most uncomfortable kiss either of the two had shared in their adult lives. Kissing him, Y/N would later realize, wasn't the problem though. It was what the kiss had unearthed.

“Oh my god, you have the hots for Diggs?!”

In three months of friendship, Y/N had learned three fundamental things about Rafael Casal: he preferred pancakes over waffles, friendship with him was a package deal that included Daveed Diggs and, lastly, Rafael Casal was the biggest gossip in town.

Any secret, any hook up, any scandal. You name it and it was almost a guarantee that, not only did Rafa know about it but he was the source of it all. So, having him become aware on the fact she had a massive crush on his best friend? Yeah, there was no chance in hell Y/N could ever speak to Daveed again without self-combusting in embarrassment.

Now, back to present times, where Y/N finds herself tiptoeing around her own apartment, anything capable of making noise switched off and her own breathing being the only sound in the living space. Five minutes had passed since Daveed had last knocked at her door, saying nothing but her name yet still managing to put her on edge.

The logical part of her brain told her to open the door, because the poor guy was probably just confused as to why she had suddenly started ignoring his texts and stopped hanging with him and Rafa while they watched the Warriors play. The rest of her brain told her to stay put, wait it out and, once she was sure Diggs had left the building, grab the participation trophy she'd been given back in elementary school and use it to go beat Rafael's ass.

Operation: Avoid Double D was working, much to her own surprise, and she'd even started to feel a little impressed with herself when- thud! - a noise came from her balcony. The door of it lay wide open, much like the book she'd been reading out there before Daveed had come knocking, but the curtains were drawn shut, gently moving with the breeze from outside. Like a scene from a cheesy horror movie, she approached the balcony with caution, reached out to draw the curtain aside and gasped at the sight of Daveed comfortably sat in her chair, skimming through her book- a very, very worn out copy of Emma by Jane Austen - and sipping on her iced tea.

“I... How... What...” There wasn't a coherent sentence to be found in Y/N's brain. “Why are you on my balcony?”

“Well,” Daveed snapped her book shut and discarded it on to the small table next to him, all the while smiling innocently up at her. “I knocked on the door and you didn't answer.”

“So you figured breaking and entering was the only solution?!”

“Hey, hey, there was no breaking involved. Just, y'know, entering.” He stood up, reminding her of how much taller he was. “You're the one that left your balcony door open to the world, I just took advantage of that and jumped over from Rafa's.”

Y/N couldn't help but turn her back on him to gaze over at Rafael's own balcony. A fresh batch of laundry had been sat out to dry on it and Y/N noticed how the only plant Rafa owned had now died, nothing left but a dried up mess in it's place. She then thought of the space between the two balconies and, more importantly, the space beneath them both. Granted, she wasn't living in some top floor luxury apartment but she imagined a seven story drop was nothing short of unpleasant. Yet there was Daveed, all smiles and charms, having just jumped over the space as if it were nothing but some innocent, childish game of leap frog. She both wanted to scold him for being so reckless and praise him for being so brave.

Until she remembered the fact she was supposed to be avoiding him and this, clearly, was ruining any of her attempts.

“What do you need so badly from me that it compelled you to do something as stupid as that?” It seemed to be that scolding was the option she'd chosen.

“Answers.” Oh god no. That's it, time to eBay a body bag and a fake passport.

“Answers to what exactly?” When she was a child, Y/N had always tried to play coy to avoid confrontation. It appeared to be she hadn't changed much with age.

“Do you have any of those blueberry muffins left?” Okay, that was not where she thought this conversation was going. “Rafa ran out of the batch you made him and he's too afraid to ask you for more, since you demanded payment last time, so he sent me over here to charm two muffins out of your pantry.”

“You're in luck. I made some last night.” They could have every last piece of food in her kitchen for all she cared, so long as that were the only thing Daveed wanted from her. Though, she was still contemplating manslaughter when it came to Rafa considering he'd sent over Daveed, knowing fine well why she was steering clear of the man. He was shameless in his meddling.

“So,” Daveed's voice and footsteps followed behind her into the apartment as she desperately aimed for the kitchen area. “how come you didn't answer the door earlier?”

“I was, uh,” I was trying to avoid you because I want nothing more than to bake muffins with you and have you nakedly recite poetry to me and that's an issue because we're friends and you don't even think about me that way. “Shower. I was showering.”

“You hair's not wet.”

“Never heard of a hair dryer? Jeez old man, catch up.” At this point, her hands were clammy from her own nervous sweat but she'd pulled out the tray of muffins and shoved the lot of them over to him. All she had to do was get him out of her apartment, then things would be fine. “Here you go, thanks for stopping by. See you later.”

“Wow, wow, wow! Calm down, girl!” Did he have to smile at her like that? “Why're you trying to get rid of me? I asked for two muffins, Y/N, not the whole batch.”

“Just take them, I forgot that I don't really like blueberries anyways.” If there was an Olympic sport for colossal idiots, she'd have won gold, silver and bronze.

“You didn't answer my question,” Daveed took one step forward and she took one step back, internally screaming as she felt her back bump against the counter. “why're you trying to get rid of me?”

“I'm not!”

“Okay then, why haven't you been answering my texts or calls?”

“Because I lost my phone.”

“The same phone that I saw on your coffee table?”

“You found it! My hero!” The body bag was no longer going to be used on Rafa, she was pretty sure she was one more comment away from dying of embarrassment.

“Y/N.” When had Daveed gotten so close to her? And why did he have to say her name like that? Her hand gripped on to the surface behind her and she gulped, struggling to maintain eye contact with him.

“Daveed.” She replied lamely, just begging that he'd turn around, grab the tray of muffins and leave.

“What's really up?” His words were softer and more serious, much like the look in his eyes. “You won't answer your phone, you haven't watched the recent games with us, you won't answer the door to me. I just... Look, if I done something or said something that made you uncomfortable, I'm sorry. I really miss you though, so does Rafa. So if there's anything I can do to fix whatever I did, just tell me. I'll do it. Anything.”

And now, ladies and gentleman, please buckle your seat-belts and get ready for take off, destination: Guilt Trip.

“No. Fuck, Daveed, no. You didn't do anything. Trust me, it's all my fault. I'm really sorry.” The words tumbled out of her quickly whilst her eyes fixated themselves with staring down at her nervous hands. “I know that Rafa told you and, just, I'm really sorry. I promise, I'm trying to get rid of them, it's why I've sort of been avoiding you. I don't want to ruin our friendship.”

“Rafa told me... what? Who are you trying to get rid of?”

“Wait,” Oh sweet hypothetical baby Jesus, had Rafael Casal not spilled the beans? Did he really not know? “he didn't tell you?”

“I'm confused.” Daveed said, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he continued to gaze down at her. “Was he supposed to tell me something? Wait, did he make a move on you or something? Cause I'll put him in his place if I have to.”

“Technically we made a move on each other.” The words flew out of her before she could stop it and she noticed immediately how his face contorted into a frown. “Not in that way! It was just a drunk kiss that we both regretted.”

“And he was supposed to tell me about it?”

“Huh? No! Ugh, look Daveed,” She'd already made a fool of herself enough, she may as well just round it all off with the mother of all embarrassments. Go big or go home, right? And, well, she was technically already home and with nowhere else to go. “I like you. Like, the way a bee likes honey or the way a dog likes a bone. A lot. But I get it, you don't like me and that's chill but would you please just give me the time and space to sort myself out and get over it so we can go back to being friends?”

“But I don't wanna be friends with you, Y/N.” Well done, idiot. So much for honesty being the best policy. “I mean, I don't know how I feel about being compared to honey or a bone but I do know how I feel about you. I think you're smart and beautiful, and stubborn and kind of a dork. And I really like it, you. I really like you.”

“Oh.” Oh? Oh?! Fucking oh!? That's all you can say to that. She couldn't stand living in her own head-space.

“I'm gonna ignore the fact that you and Rafa made out or whatever and just get straight to the point of asking you on a date. Tomorrow night, seven pm. Wear something easy to move around in.” Gentle fingers tilted Y/N's head up by her chin, forcing her to stare into his eyes. They were warm and welcoming, like chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven and melting with love. “Who knows, maybe by the end of the night you'll finally get a good kiss from a Bay Boy.”

“Why would Rafa kiss me at the end of our date?” At least she could still joke among the shock. “And you more or less just demanded I go on a date with you. No questions were made.”

“If demanding is what it takes,” He leaned down, his mouth hovering dangerously close to hers. “then so be it.”

Where she'd expected a kiss, she found nothing but empty space and the sight of Daveed picking two muffins out of the tray. Wide eyed and honestly a little confused about what events had just transpired in her kitchen, she watched as he finally headed for her door, suddenly not enjoying the thought of him leaving as much as before.

“Oh, and Y/N?” He was halfway out of her apartment, grinning back at her. “Rafa did tell me, I just wanted to hear you say it yourself.”

He slammed the door shut on the sound of Y/N cursing out the very man that was Rafael Casal.

#daveed x reader #daveed diggs #daveed diggs x reader #daveed diggs drabble #daveed diggs fanfiction #daveed diggs oneshot #daveed diggs imagine #daveed diggs scenario #daveed diggs fluff #daveed diggs hamilton #daveed diggs clipping.#valwrite #daveed diggs x y/n

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bae-roman · 3 years

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I know it’s a bit early but I remember you saying you love Christmas so I hope this is fine but can I get a holiday themed [if they don’t celebrate actual Christmas] bunni and roman drabble that’s on the more mature side and maybe before they have kids [other than Nadia oviously but maybe she’s not involved] thank you!!!! 😁

Ahh! Thanks for the request babe! I LOOOOOOOVE Christmas SO MUCH. Honestly You could send me Christmas prompts in like April and I’d still be down.

I actually have a drabble I was working on last year so I’m just going to add onto that! Nadia may be involved a tad in the beginning but I’ll make it more mature at the end!

Putting some under the cut bc it gets smutty towards the end!

This would be their first Christmas together after bunny moved in. She had told Roman many times before about her love of everything Christmas related and he’d seen how perfectly decorated her old home had been. Hell, even the year before bunny bought piles of decorations to Roman’s house after discovering all he had was a tree and a wreath which was “completely and utterly unacceptable” and “akin to child abuse” as bunny had said.

Roman was definitely not the most into Christmas, and had Nadia not been a factor, he would likely ignore the holiday altogether.

When Bunny cared about something she really throws herself into it and what Roman didn’t know is that Bunny had actually been toning down her Christmas spirit in the previous years. Since she had never lived alone, she always had to compromise on her decor. Even though her previous roomies were her friends and had a bit more tolerance for her antics, she still wanted to be respectful of common living areas and not shove her decorations down their throats, even if that meant having only 1 Christmas tree.

So, now living with Roman in what she considered her home as well, she was finally able to go all out, and let me tell you - she did. Roman went to work on December 1st to his house looking normal and came back that night to something like this

(Of course their house doesn’t look like this, but it’s how bunny hung their lights)

Like Roman is practically blinded by it while driving down the street.

Additionally, all the trees on their property were also lit up and decorated just as extravagantly. Even if Roman wasn’t a bit of a grinch, he’d still consider this too much. When he entered the house things only got worse. While aesthetically it looked good, Roman couldn’t get over the fact that his home now closely resembled the inside of a Christmas store.

He was greeted by Nadia running up to him, like she always did when he come home, “Don’t you like it Daddy? Bunny said I didn’t have to go to school if I helped! Isn’t it pretty?”

Nadia was obviously very excited about the state of the house and as much as Roman loathed it, the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint his little girl so, he hid his disdain behind a fake smile and said the house looked lovely.

When Nadia dragged him away to show him the Christmas tree in her room he caught Bunny’s eye and sent her a quick scowl, but Bunny only laughed.

After seeing the pink Christmas explosion that occurred in Nadia’s room, he took a quick look through the rest of the house, discovering every room had their own tree and separate theme. If he wasn’t so horrified that he had to live here for the next month, he’d be somewhat impressed.

The one thing he actually did like was the main Christmas tree in the living room. Bunny had moved things around (or rather, had paid many people to move things around) so that it was centered around this colossal tree. The thing was huge but beautiful all the same. It reminded Roman of one he’d seen as a child on a trip with his father to Time’s square.

While he didn’t love the rest of the house, he appreciated that bunny had left his office alone and kept their bedroom decor to a minimum. He bitched about the decorations all month long but ultimately, didn’t order her to remove them.

This would come to bite him in the ass the following year, though, because Bunny went even harder the next year.

Now, let’s skip to the evening of Christmas day...

After they had put Nadia down for bed Roman and Bunny went back to the living room for a drink.

The two of them were talking about nothing in particular for a while before roman started wandering around the tree. It was large enough that Bunny couldn’t see him on the other side but she heard some shuffling so she called out, asking what he was doing.

Roman re-emerged holding a present, “There was one left, it says it’s for you”

“Ooh! Does it say who it’s from? I don’t recognize the wrapping paper” Bunny was too excited about the prospect of another gift that she didn’t even notice the odd way Roman was holding the box. His arms were hanging low and he was holing it on both sides, right below his waist.

Just as bunny was about to snatch it out of his hands, he stopped her. She looked up at him and pouted, “hey!”

“It’s uh really heavy. I guess whatever’s in here is pretty huge. Maybe just open the lid?”

“Fine, just give it to me”

When it came to presents, bunny was almost like a child. She loved gifts and surprise ones were even better.

Once again, ignoring Roman’s odd behavior, she opened the lid of her gift and found ... Roman’s dick.

Bunny looked up at Roman, a shit eating grin plastered on his face, and looked back down at the contents of the box again before bursting into laughter.

“Wow, just what I needed!”, Bunny played along, “no wonder it was so heavy, maybe you should put it down...”

Bunny took Roman’s hand and led him to the couch. He stood by the side as she got on her knees, resting her elbows on the arm of the loveseat, facing him. She carefully took off the box, freeing his member and taking it in her hands. Roman undid the buttons of his pants and let them fall down while Bunny took the tip of his length into her mouth. Roman pushed her hair out of her face and gripped it at the back of her head, nudging her head to take more of him in. She obeyed and slowly took more and more of him in until she was at the base, Roman let out a soft groan and leaned over to pull her top down to expose her chest. He licked his thumb and forefinger before reaching down and playing with her nipples.

Bunny continued to increase her pace until she felt Roman beginning to twitch inside her. She let him fall out of her mouth and got up to give him a kiss. She felt his tongue battle against hers as their bodies pushed against eachother.

Bunny ran her hands down from Roman’s neck to the collar of his shirt and tugged at the buttons until they ripped off. Roman slid his hands down her body, stopping to grip her bunched up top and dragging it down over her ass. Once he let the fabric go, he cupped Bunny’s ass in his hands and lifted her so that her legs were wrapped around him.

The fabric of her tights on his bare cock hardened him further and when the pair broke apart, he set bunny down on her feet and quickly removed the rest of her clothing so that they were both naked.

Bunny went back to the couch, this time sitting on it normally and widened her legs. Roman licked his lips and knelt down, putting a hand on each of her knees.

He spread her legs even further and pushed her back before bringing his plump lips to her core. He teased her at first, nipping at her thighs and licking her all over, except for her clit. He knew how crazy that drove her. When he heard her let out a little whine, he smirked to himself before giving her clit his full attention. Bunny arched her back and tried to move her thighs together but Roman’s firm grip stopped her from being able to interrupt his work. Roman felt her walls begin to tighten around his fingers and, just as she did to him, stopped his actions.

They both had a hate-love relationship with edging eachother. On one hand, being so close to your climax and then not reaching it was almost unbearable however, they knew that the sex to come would be 10 times more wild.

Almost like she could read his mind, Bunny flipped herself over on the couch so that she was again on her knees but this time her upper body leant against the back of it.

Roman ran his member across her slit, coating it in her juices before sliding it inside her. He took full control of Bunny’s hips and made achingly slow movements. He began to quicken his pace and it wasn’t long before he was bottoming out inside of her. They were both moaning fairly loudly. Roman ran one of his hands down from her ass to her clit and played with it while he fucked her. It wasn’t long before he once again felt her walls constrict around him but this time he let her reach her high. He followed not long after and rested on top of her.

When they were finished, bunny made sure to pick up their clothes and head upstairs. Roman, who had followed her into their room, lay on their bed while she went into the closet. Roman assumed that she was putting the laundry away or something since she was in there for a while but was pleasantly surprised when she came back out in... this

“So, I guess we had the same idea ...”, Bunny said as she posed in the doorway, showing off her little outfit. She looked at him over her shoulder and asked, “You ready to open your gift?”

#roman godfrey imagine #Roman Godfrey #christmas themed #christmas #smut #hemlock grove imagine #hemlock grove #request #Bill Skarsgård

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emmy-writes-sometimes · 4 years

Text

Whatever It Takes

Sebastian’s daughter spends half the time with him and half with her step-mother. Her step-dad goes too far, causing her to run back to her father.

A/N: I ended up combining two requests with this since they were both such good ideas! I hope both of them love it!

“Please don’t make me go,” you begged your dad as he looked through the apartment to make sure you weren’t leaving anything. “I hate it there.” He, of course, thought you were bluffing. He knew your mom wasn’t the best, but he had full confidence in her as a mother, at least. And he’d seen the house she lived in. It was fine. But he didn’t see how things really were.

“You have to. It’s what…” He sat down on the arm of the couch.

“What the court says, I know. But I’m old enough to decide for myself, and I wanna stay with you. Please?” You didn’t know how bad things would have to get for him to let you stay. He was your best friend, and you’d already bent the rules to be able to spend most of the summer with him. But today you absolutely had to go back before your mother threw a colossal fit.

“You know I wouldn’t let you go unless I absolutely have to, and I absolutely have to. Unless you want to petition the court, there’s no way around it. You have to spend half the time there, it’s what we agreed on.”

“Yeah, when I was five! Before everything hit the fan!” As soon as your mother had divorced Sebastian, she’d moved in with some crazy guy in his mansion in the Hamptons. And the guy treated you like absolute shit, so your mom did too. They bought you off their backs; every time you threatened to tell the court something, another Louis Vuitton headed your way. You were sick of it, and you were ready to make your own decision and decide to stay with your dad. He was an actor, and he was gone between Atlanta and California and New York, but at least he loved you. You knew he loved you, unlike your mother. Your mother loved the image of a perfect family, even if on the inside it was every kind of abuse but physical. You didn’t want to worry your dad unless you absolutely had to tell him, so you kept your mouth shut.

“Things didn’t hit the fan, your mom married an asshole and now you don’t want to be there. I get it. Really. But we’ve been over this time and time again, sweetheart. You have to. Unless you have evidence that something’s wrong, they’re not going to change it now. And they already hate me because I’m an actor, because apparently that means I’m not stable.” You knew that wasn’t true. He was the most mentally stable person you knew. You could tell he was at his wit’s end, but you wanted to keep pushing. You wanted to stay. Any bad day with your dad was better than a good day with your mom.

“Fine,” you said softly. You tried to hide the fact that you were about to cry. You really didn’t want to leave. You had left in the middle of a fight and you knew things were going to be even worse when you came back, especially if you told them that your dad had taken you to California with him without asking them first.

“I love you,” he said as he stood up, noticing that you were visibly upset. “You know that. I’ll call the lawyers again and see what they say. It’s been a few years since anything happened, so maybe they’d be willing to hear you out. But don’t get your hopes up, okay?” You nodded and hugged him tightly, trying to regain control of your breathing before it got worse.

“Okay.”

“I’ll help you load up.” One by one, you got your bags in the overly luxurious SUV your mother had bought you, and before you knew it he was handing you a twenty for something to eat along the way. “Please get real food and not just iced coffee,” he insisted. You got into the driver’s seat and smiled. At least he knew enough about you to know that was your plan.

“Only because you asked nicely.”

“Drive safe, babe, okay?” You nodded and started the car, checking the blind spot monitor before driving off toward the highway. You spent most of the time in the car making an internal list of all of the terrible things your mother had done, even though you knew it wouldn’t be enough and you would never care to write it down.

You settled with cruise control for most of the drive, even though it was a bumpy road back to East Hampton, and finally pulled into the perfectly landscaped driveway of your step-dad’s mansion. There weren’t any other cars in the driveway, so you assumed your mom was off shopping, as usual, and your step-dad was probably cheating on her because that was just how things worked. You were only half joking when you thought about it.

“Hello?” You called when you reached the house, just to make sure. You strained your neck to look up to the balcony, the huge chandelier reflecting in the bright sunlight. No one was home, except maybe one of the housekeepers. You took your things up the elevator, because the house was just that crazy, and settled back into your room. Your room there was gorgeous. Blair Waldorf would be jealous of it. But it wasn’t you. You and your dad had painted all of the furniture in your room at his house, together, and you’d picked everything out until you had to leave. Your dad had finished the room, too, and he knew you so well that it was perfect. You loved it. You hated this room. What a problem, right? Sheets getting changed every day, a private closet full of designer clothes… What a terrible life it was. That was how they reeled you in; if things looked good on the outside, it meant that nobody would dare look on the inside. It was a dollhouse. A shitty, expensive dollhouse.

You spent most of the afternoon unpacking everything and changing out of the clothes your mother hated seeing you in. Instead you changed into an uncomfortable but put together outfit and waited. You were unpacking your makeup, thinking about seeing if one of your friends wanted to go to the beach later, when your door blew open. It was your mother, fresh from a shopping trip.

“I see you’re back,” she responded. “How was it?”

“Great,” you said. “How is everything here?” Your mother shrugged.

“It’s the Hamptons. Roger is having some friends over tonight, so don’t ruin things for us.” You internally rolled your eyes. “That means…”

“Stay in my room,” you interrupted. “I know.” That was another thing – your mom and step-dad wanted you out of their way as much as possible. That meant being all but locked in your room when guests came over. It was like you didn’t even exist. That was another difference – your dad couldn’t wait to show you off, especially because you were interested in film.

You did what she said. You stayed in your room, thankful that you kept snacks up there, and watched TV for most of the night until everybody left. You could tell that they were ridiculously drunk, but that wasn’t new. You wanted out of there, once and for all, and just in case someone tried anything, you set your phone to record sound before putting it in the pocket of your sweatshirt. You walked down the stairs, seeing the cleaning staff working in the kitchen, and made a beeline for it. Before you could get there, though, your step-dad grabbed onto your arm.

“You’re back, I see,” he said. He was too close for comfort and you tried to wrestle your arm away, but you couldn’t. He was too strong. You could feel a bruise forming on your arm. That would be a fantastic picture.

“Yeah,” you replied.

“Thank you for not making any noise earlier. This was too important to have you mess up.” You knew he was just being an ass, but it hurt. Were you really that bad?

“Yeah, whatever. I’m going to bed.” You started to walk, but he didn’t let go. “Can you let go of me?” He did what you asked, finally, and when you pulled your arm away there was a bruise on it. You hoped it would fade, but not before you took pictures of it. Maybe them being like this was a blessing in disguise. Still, though. They’d never gone so far as to put a hand on you.

You were careful in the coming week. Beyond careful. You slipped in and out, minded your own business, and made yourself as scarce as possible. But they had a rule that you had to come home each night, so you did. As soon as the town curfew kicked in, you were home. They always found a reason to come to your room, whether it was lecturing you about leaving your car in the wrong spot in the driveway or taking the wrong towel out to the pool. And your step-dad kept getting more and more violent. As soon as one bruise would fade, another would start on your arm or your shoulder from him just grabbing onto you too hard. Of course your mom wouldn’t do anything about it. She only looked out for herself. You didn’t want to worry your dad, so you just pretended like everything was okay.

“I’m glad things are going well,” he said over the phone one night. “Maybe they just needed some time.”

“Yeah,” you responded. You were being fake as hell and you prayed that he didn’t notice it. You were also trying not to cry. That night had been a bad one; they’d had guests over without telling you and you’d gone down the stairs. You had another bruise on your wrist, and this time there was a fingernail mark, too.

“Listen, I gotta go, I’m meeting up with some people for a dinner meeting.”

“Okay.” You felt stupid, but you didn’t want to let him go. Your eyes filled to the brim with tears. You just wanted him. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetie.” You hung up the phone and crawled back into bed, letting the tears roll down your cheeks. You wanted to go home. You had friends, sure, but you felt so lonely in that huge house with people who hated you. You were sure your mom and step-dad wouldn’t even care if you left. You wanted to test it, but you were scared. You let yourself cry a little more, just to get everything out, and decided to watch TV until you felt a little better. You wanted to watch LOST, the show you and your dad had been watching all summer together, but you didn’t want to watch it without him.

It was late before you finally went down to the kitchen again, bare-footed so your feet wouldn’t make much noise, and tried to get some water. Unfortunately, you weren’t the only one with the idea. Your step dad was sitting there, at the table, drinking. As always. He was draining a bottle of rum that probably cost more than your car did.

“Well, well, well,” he said. “Haven’t seen you the past few days.” That was right. Because you were avoiding him.

“Yeah,” you tried to hide it with a shrug as you reached for a glass. The last bruise he’d left had disappeared, and hopefully it wouldn’t be replaced. “Haven’t been feeling well. I think I’m getting sick or something.” Your step-dad smirked.

“Sure you are. Or maybe you just don’t want to see us. You want to run off with your real daddy, I know that, but you could at least try to be a part of this family.” Your eyes were filling up just as quickly as your glass was with ice. You switched it over to the water. You had a bad feeling in your stomach.

“Okay,” you responded calmly. “I’ll try and make a better effort. I’m sorry.” He walked up to you then, like he always did, but he didn’t do anything. Not at first.

“Sorry for what? Being such a little bitch all the time?” That was crossing a line. He’d never called you that, not to your face. You were always just the brat to him. Not bitch. You wanted to end the conversation. Fight or flight kicked in and you wanted to run away. Maybe you could take the back staircase. It was quicker, and you could lock your room so he couldn’t get in. You were frozen in fear, breathing heavily, about to start crying again like the little kid you were. He grabbed your arm, for real this time, and you noticed that you were shaking. This was going to leave a darker bruise than normal, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to see you upset.

“That’s what I thought. Cry-baby. Go run off, see if we care. We’ll get full custody, anyway.” So you decided that’s what you would do. You walked away, noticing that he didn’t follow you, and he probably didn’t think you were serious. He was probably thinking you were going upstairs to cry, which you were. But you were going to pack, too.

You packed as many of your clothes as you could get in a suitcase, a full backpack with your laptop in it, and the few pictures you knew you would want. You threw your makeup bag into another bag and started cleaning up the room. By the time you made up the bed and cleared the closet out, it was like no one even lived there. You went out to the balcony. He was in bed. Your mom had gone to bed long ago. So you lifted up your suitcase and brought it down to the entry hallway. It was pouring rain outside, but you didn’t care. You had to get out of there, fast. You started your car with your phone, turning the lights off so you wouldn’t be seen from their window, and loaded everything back into the car. The time to drive back to the city was two hours normally, but you could cut it down. It was nearly three in the morning, you knew that, but you had to get out of there. The last thing you did was leave the house key on the kitchen table, along with the two credit cards they gave you that you almost never used.

You must have looked like a mess to anyone driving alongside you – you were still in your pajamas and a wet raincoat, your car was packed full, and you were crying. But you hit traffic at the bridge and, by the time you pulled into your dad’s garage, you could tell that the kitchen light was on. He was awake. You shut the car off and took your phone with you, walking up the stairs to the first floor.

Your dad was standing there, making one of those protein shakes he always drank. He looked like he was about to go for a run. He looked over at you as you entered, eyes wide, and shut off the blender he was using.

“You’re supposed to be at your mom’s!” He said.

“I had to get out of there. I can’t stay there,” you explained. “I have it recorded, but I had to get out. Please just let me stay.”

“Hold on, hold on, you drove here in the middle of the night by yourself?” You nodded. “Do they know?”

“No.”

“Jesus, Y/n. I need to call the lawyers right now. Do you know what you just did?” You took off your rain jacket, letting it fall to the floor, and held out your arm. The bruise was dark purple and clear as day. “Did he do that to you?”

“Yes. I have all of the pictures and I recorded all of our conversations. I’m sorry I came here without telling you but I had to get out of there.” You could see the rage burning in his eyes, but it wasn’t for you. The first thing he did was wrap you in a hug, tightly, and that was enough. You let yourself start crying, again, just because you were so relieved. Nothing could hurt you here. Not your mom, not your step-dad.

“I need to call the lawyers. Go un-pack for me and we’ll figure this out, okay, honey?” He rubbed your back for a second as you prepared to pull away from him. You went to go unpack your bags and your dad started calling everyone he knew to call. You doubted they would even care that you were gone, but you definitely didn’t want to cause a media frenzy that would make your dad look bad. That was the absolute last thing you wanted to do was screw him over. Finally, the calls were all over and your dad walked into your room. You’d taken a shower and changed clothes by then, warming up from the cold rain. You’d driven with your air on full blast the entire time without even realizing it.

“Hey,” he said. “I called the lawyer. They’re sending some police and CPS over to talk things through, but it looks like I can get full custody at least temporarily. You might have to go to court for it, but…”

“I don’t want to. I just want out of there.” He sat down beside you on the bed, pulling you in.

“I know you don’t want to. And it’ll be hard. But they hurt you. Multiple times. And you literally have all of the proof you need on your phone. They’re not gonna hurt you again, I won’t let them. Whatever it takes.” You nodded, sniffling a little. You were such a crybaby. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it before.”

“Nobody did. He never started acting like that until I got back.” He ran a hand through your hair.

“It’s over now, okay? You’re home with me.” You were resting your head in his shoulder when there was a knock at the front door, followed by the shout that it was police. He offered you a hand and you took it, like you always did, and walked down the stairs.

#sebastian stan x daughter!reader #sebastian stan x teen!reader

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solecize · 4 years

Text

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. the boy you meet in detention, felix, doesn’t see colours. you want to gift his eyes with the kaleidoscopes and the rainbows of your world. the palette of your love story is supposed to bring together a work of art, but calamity lies beneath the canvas. 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. felix x reader 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. swearing 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 4.1k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. i wrote half of this while i was high sorry

YELLOW. / PART III - “THE LIST OF GOOD THINGS”

this is what you were afraid of. felix came and went as he pleased and after the day at the beach, he was gone for weeks. you had no way to contact him and when you worked up the nerve to ask around, nobody had a clue. it was a little embarrassing, the way you scoured social media for any trace of him and you weren’t even the slightest bit surprised when you discovered that he was off the grid.

there wasn't any chance of you being able to shake him off—the thought of felix was tattooed on your skin, entangled in your hair like bubblegum, left a stain that couldn't be washed away. his lazy grin haunted you and the faint sensation of his lips forever planted on yours. you thought you were going mad.

you'd had crushes before, even a failed relationship or two, and the way he made you feel was incomparable to all.

“was that okay?” you fumbled with your words, tripping and leaping over hurdles to get your voice out.

you weren’t sure how long the two of you sat in that cave. you especially weren’t sure how long you two spent completely taking in the other by the lips, dizzying your vision and swelling your lips. it was felix who pulled away first, panting for air. his hair was tousled and a wash of strawberry pink flushed his face.

felix just laughed and cupped your cheek. “yes. it was more than okay.” his eyes bore into yours and an army began marching through your chest.

the two of you remained in that spot until the night fell and the stars illuminated your surroundings. someone—you weren’t sure which one of you—finally knocked some sense into them and realized it was time to go. neither of you wanted to leave and making your way back was like dragging you feet.

“where do you live? i’ll give you a ride home.” this time, you were the one that hopped into the driver’s seat. you took a glance at your phone abandoned on the dashboard, vibrating wildly.

twenty missed calls from your mom. four from your dad. about fifty texts altogether. you rolled your eyes and turned the device off.

felix raised his eyebrows, startled for a moment. “oh! no, that’s okay—”

“don’t be dumb, i made you come here and you’re not taking the bus,” you snorted.

“. . .fine. you can drop me off back at school,” he ran a hand through his hair, shoulders tense. “i left my car there.”

“your car? i thought you said it’d “been a while” since you last drove,” you said, but turned on the car anyway. the engine roared to life and the two of you were met with the local pop radio station. you scrunched your nose and turned it off, just as felix reached for the button at the same time with the same expression. the two of you shared a laugh.

you connected your phone again and played a more mellow playlist, one for the late atmosphere. adore you by harry styles filled your ears and you felt your hands relax on the wheel.

felix chuckled. “come on. i just didn’t wanna get in the minivan with you.” his nose crinkled when you playfully slapped his arm.

“i don’t blame you,” but you sure were glad that he ended up doing so.

the rest of the car ride was filled with comfortable silence. at some point, felix shyly put his hand over yours and you didn’t notice. it felt so natural and your fingers automatically tangled up in his. the rest of the harry styles album found its fingerprints all over the inside of the car and the remainder of the night.

eventually, the two of you pulled up to the high school and you felt a weight of dread trailing down your spine. you looked over at felix and a frown etched his face as well.

“i guess this is it?” the thought of collecting his number didn’t even occur to mind.

felix’s hand didn’t move. “i guess so.”

worst of all, there was nothing to distract your mind with. the glare of the summer sun and the clean slate of all of your days brought you with a frustrating routine of sitting in your room in front of your electric fan all day. you weren’t even quite talking to your parents beyond a few words at dinner and the occasional moment when one of them would stick their head through your door to ensure that you were alive and breathing. clearly, they were still upset about the whole steal-the-minivan situation.

you felt pathetic, holed up indoors. you wanted to find motivation to go out and actually be with people, but it wasn’t like you had many options. eventually you got tired of wasting your summer away and decided to go for a bike ride. outside. of your room. admittedly, it was the craziest thing that happened since school went out.

you slipped on a pair of beat up white air force ones at the bottom of your stairs, tiptoeing quietly down and stopped when you realized that the house was empty. taking a glance at yourself in the mirror, you looked like you hadn’t seen the sun in years—really, it was for a few weeks. you wore a pair of oversized basketball shorts and a tank cropped just above your belly button, showing off a piercing that represented another badge of rebellion against your parents. a sound that could’ve sound like a groan of frustration rumbled from your throat, though it was too distorted to be compared to anything human.

after a moment’s deliberation, you decided to at the very least put your hair up in a ponytail, roughly forcing the scrunchie through your tangled hair. you appeared a touch more presentable then. then again, you didn’t care all that much if you ran into anybody you knew—it wasn’t like you were going to run into them in september after you moved away for university.

carefully, you locked the front door and brought your bicycle out from the back. you didn’t have an idea of where you wanted to go, but you knew that being inside the house brought a heavy weight to your body that you couldn’t quite get rid of. even just the slightest stream of sunlight spilling through the door and the kiss of the summer heat lifted your mood.

following the wind, you found yourself in front of your now former high school. maybe it was the familiarity of the route that creeped up at the back of your mind and unconsciously brought you here. it looked exactly the same, even in its barren state.

you were coming to a stop when you heard someone call your name. an all too familiar deep rumble of a voice. thinking you were imagining it, you ignored it. then, it came again and you whipped your head around.

“hey.”

it was felix that walked past you, hands deep in the pockets of his grey sweatpants that you knew must have been killing him in the crazy heat, along with the light zip-up on top. he wore the same jordans from the day in detention and a plain white t-shirt. simple, but it fit him so well. and that goddamn smile. it always reached his eyes, it seemed, no matter what.

“hi,” you managed to breathe out, suddenly thanking yourself for hauling your ass out of bed. what were the chances that you’d bump into the boy that had been plaguing your mind for week? “. . .long time no see.”

the words felt dumb and numb, rolling off your tongue, but you were too taken aback to process that he was actually in front of you. it had come to the point where you wondered if the day at the beach was a fever dream, created in the haze of your lonely desires at the back of your mind.

however, he was very real before your very eyes. he creeped up upon you like a summer breeze; unexpected, but exactly what your spirit ached for in a seemingly endless drought. it seemed as though felix was just as happy to see you, though a twinkle of relief slumped in his shoulders and relaxed all of the muscles in his body. with you, he always did that.

felix bit his lip. “it’s nice to see you. how’s your summer been so far?” you tried to read his facial expression, wondering if he was feeling the same way you were feeling about him, but was left to a complete wall of neutrality. he was good.

“boring. not much to do when you don’t have friends and it’s too hot to do anything outside.” that was the truth, but it sounded more pathetic out loud than you were willing to admit. however, felix simply nodded in understanding.

“well, you’re out now, aren’t you?” felix looked off into the distance, squinting at the relentless sun.

you could’ve sworn you heard him mutter the word “finally” but you weren’t sure.

“i was going stir crazy,” you admitted with a gentle laugh. you subconsciously tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear and stopped mid-way through when you realized what you were doing. oh, you were a freaking goner.

he teased, “so you decided to come visit the old prison yard?” he gestured to the school building and you tilted your head to the side, taking a moment to observe it. the lot did resemble a jailhouse to an uncanny extent.

however, with void of students, the lot seemed peaceful. abandoned and colossal. it was as if there was actual oxygen to breathe in, instead of feeling restrained as you had been the past four years. you wanted to attribute it to that, but there was an itching feeling that it was because of felix’s presence that gave you the ability to capture freedom.

“i was riding my bike and i guess getting here is just muscle memory,” you shrugged it off. “what’s your excuse?”

nobody hung out at the high school during the summer unless they were getting high in the parking lot or using the outdoor field to play soccer. you had a feeling that felix wasn’t there for either. he also came alone, or so it seemed, considering you hadn’t even realized his presence.

“well. . . .” a playful smile emerged on felix’s lips. “okay, fine. since you showed me your hidden spot, i’ll show you mine.”

it was as though the earth had thundered and a mirror sprung up from the ground below, forcing you to see your reflection in him. you knew there was a reason why you were so drawn to felix from the very first moment. in a way, he was just like you.

without waiting for you to verbally answer, felix extended his hand, just as you had done for him on graduation day. and, in the same vein as his own actions, you laced your fingers with his without any hesitation. you had to stop yourself from sighing out loud—the feeling of his hand joined with yours was a relief that you would cross the ocean for.

however, today, his skin was rough. they were calloused and dry, ones that were hard at work and had been drained of hydration in a deep desert. they met your soft palm and the contrast was electric. the two of you became one in just the smallest of forces, though, it was as powerful as a hurricane. you imagined that kissing him once again would feel like as though the heavens were to rain down upon us all—quenching thirst after a drought.

“i swear, if you take me behind the bleachers . . “ you teased. everyone knew that place as the local makeout spot, where there always seemed to be a douchey senior guy declaring it as his and the innocent girl next door’s secret hideout. of course, felix was the last person on earth who would take any person there.

his ears still tinted a cherry red, even in spite of the fact that you were joking. you laughed a bit and with your free hand, you abandoned your bike on the side of the driveway into the high school. somehow, it didn’t occur to you to bring a lock or even place it anywhere safer than there. your mind was too wrapped around felix’s pinky finger and his eyes were glued onto yours.

“no! no—of course not,” he replied without waiting a beat, eyes wide.

you just laughed and shook your head, as felix caught onto the joke. he chuckled nervously in response and your heart wanted to burst. it was adorable.

felix tugged gently to prompt you to begin moving and you did so. the summer sun climbed onto your bag and wrapped its arms around your neck, straining your ability to walk in smooth motions. however, you were able to see that the two of you were going towards the forest nestled behind the football field.

“what have you been to this summer?” you asked, squinting at the sun startling your eyes upon looking up at felix.

he just shrugged. “there’s nothing to do around here. i just end up coming back here all the time,” he said, referring to the place that he was leading you to.

that was the truth, the city got boring fast. not to mention, everybody you grew up with turned into completely different people and the ones who didn’t change already drifted too far away. it was like being stuck and staying inside wasn’t even as bad because coming out to face the real world meant facing the reality of the cards that you were dealt with.

it was the reality of growing up. you despised it and it must’ve shown on your face because felix glanced over at you and frowned. at that, you relaxed your shoulders that had stiffened without your command.

“sorry. it’s just—” you began, already hearing felix’s inquiry form at the tip of his tongue. “—this isn’t really the summer i dreamed of. i wanted bonfires and friendship bracelets and sleepovers. not sitting around in my room all day because i don’t have any friends anymore.”

“you have me,” felix immediately said and you weren’t sure if your heart should’ve skipped a beat or sunk because you just potentially got friend zoned. however, the squeeze of his hand and the way his lids grew a touch heavier looking at your face, at your lips, relaxed the thought.

he then let go of your hand for a second and began to tug at the strings of his zip up sweater, slowly and more forcefully when he realized just how hard it was. you simply stared at him, blinking, because you were confused at what he was doing. felix finally managed to get the string out and then proceeded to wrap the arms of the sweater around his waist, submitting to the heat.

“hold out your wrist.”

you silently did so, still confused. felix pulled you slightly closer, just enough that you were almost chest to chest and your arm still stuck out. he smiled. then, he took the red string from his zip up hoodie and began to tie it around your wrist. you couldn’t help but notice that it was the same shade of red as his red paper footballs from the first day in detention.

tilting to your head to the side, you managed to ask, “uh, what are you doing?”

he was having a hard time knotting it and looping the excessively long string properly. “what do you think i’m doing?” felix wore a mischievous grin on his face.

“ruining your hoodie?” you blunted.

felix chuckled. “no, dummy, this is our friendship bracelet.”

no one had ever done something like that for you before. you were always the one going out of your way to do nice things for your friends and play the good guy, only to be fucked over in the end. with felix, he gave you the power of feeling appreciated and wanted. it weighed heavier than a box under an evergreen tree or a birthday surprise with confetti.

you jumped onto him and he let out a yelp of surprise. maybe you crushed his bones at some point, but you couldn’t stop repeating words of gratitude over and over again. you felt felix’s shoulders relax and his chest rumble with another laugh, as he snaked his arms around your torso and squeezed you just as hard back.

“i know it’s kind of just a string, but you also kind of just made my summer,” you whispered in his ear and felt him stroke your hair in response. “sorry, i just had to tell you that. do you. . .do you wanna go now?”

“if you still want to,” felix’s face was slightly flushed when you pulled away from the hug.

he captured your hand in yours once again and reeled you in, pulling you straight out of the salt water and into his world of butterscotch skies.

you didn’t even know that place like this existed in your hometown. it was a moderate journey to say the least, at least a twenty minute walk from where the two of you started at your now former high school. felix began by leading you through the forest, taking paths that you didn’t even notice during your few visits there.

throughout the past four years, you seldom found yourself strolling through the murky trails of his forest, mostly to avoid the kids who would cut class to smoke weed here. the place was notorious for the activity, with its extensive paths crawling into one big maze and lengthy branches perfect for hiding behind. it was never anything but ugly and shady to you.

however, felix was like midas. everything he touched turned into gold. everywhere you went with him turned into a wonderland.

“these trees are way grown out now,” he murmured, pushing an small log out of the path with his foot. “i like it here, though.”

“it’s peaceful,” you replied, eyes drinking it all in. it wasn’t quite like the trees leading up to the beach hill, but the gloom hanging off of pea coloured moss and damp dirt brought strange comfort.

that wasn’t the end of it, though. the two of you continued to make your way through the forest and on your end, with no destination in your mind. you even forgot about the heat. weaving through the way, bits of light began to make their presence known, shining from the far distance. you looked over at felix and a small grin began to form on his face.

all you saw next was yellow.

at first, you were blinded by the sudden flash of sun. then, you slowly, but surely, fluttered your eyelids open and were confused when you were met with the same yellow. tucked away in the middle of the forest was a surprisingly large field of sunflowers. they varied in length and sparseness, but the one constant was their bright hue. the field shone brighter than the sun itself. the aroma of the field attacked your lungs and you relented, letting the scent of the flora run through your body.

“you always come exactly when i need you. . .” you mumbled under your breath, perplexed. you looked up at felix, who let his fingers run through the first patch of flowers, never picking, but appreciating the soft petals.

felix’s ears perked up. “huh? did you say something?”

“nothing,” you shook your head and bit back your smile. felix as a good luck charm would have to stay a secret. it was all a quiet coincidence, but you were more than grateful that he seemed to perfectly show up every time. “this place. . . .is this even real?” you giggled, mimicking his movements and brushing your fingers against the flowers.

“i come here almost everyday. it’s breathtaking.”

there was a crinkling noise and you hadn’t even noticed that felix let go of your hand to open a lollipop. he popped it out and it was, of course, a bright lemon colour. it perfectly matched the field. you raised an eyebrow at him,

“yellow,” he began, with the stick poking out of his right cheek, “is the easiest colour to remember. it’s the colour of happiness and home and summer and flowers and. . . and goddamn lemonade!” felix declared, spreading his arms open as if to hug the skies.

you knew exactly what felix meant. everything that embodied the colour yellow was right there, in that moment, there was no better colour to remember.

you blinked and after a breath, you grinned and yelled out to up above, “like goddamn lemonade!”

“LEMONADEEE!”

the two of you began making yelling and whooping to absolutely no body other than yourselves. after a few moments of jumping around, he captured you into a gentle hug. you only squeezed your arms harder.

he paused. “you know you’re one of my first friends in a long time?” felix asked. “and graduation just happened. great.” his tone was sarcastic, but the truth hurt you just as hard.

you thought about the alleged “friends” you used to run with, the petty girls who always found themselves in drama. the ones that you completely changed yourself for. the ones who no longer had a place in your life.

you thought about felix. he felt like home. you met him too late.

“you’re one of mine, too.” you wondered if being a friend was all that felix thought of you. you thought back to the day you kissed him and he responded positively. you thought about the friendship bracelet now laced and bound to your body. maybe, that’s what you needed him more as. “what happened to your old friends?” you were attempting to change the topic.

was that a mistake? felix cleared his throat. “well, there used to be nine of all of us back then . . .” he trailed off and instead made a spot for himself on the ground. he sat crosslegged and began playing with the nearest flower.

there was a story to everything. experiencing it is the worst, but explaining the breakdown to someone else was just as bad sometimes. you saw the way felix struggled to piece it together, so you merely shook your head and sat beside him. it could wait another day.

“i can’t believe i never knew about this place,” you said.

felix replied, “it’s probably for the better. it wouldn’t be this pretty if a bunch of random high school kids found it.” he cocked his head towards the forest, the lollipop still dangling from his mouth.

in one fluid motion, you swiped it and stuck it into your own mouth with a grin.

“hey!” felix exclaimed, completely taken aback. he began laughing, though, and a playful look shone in his eye.

before you knew it, you were underneath him. of course, not in that way, but the idiot managed to tackle you to the ground in the same way he had done at the beach. you gasped for laughter as he did so, holding you down with tickles.

you somehow slid from the position below him and held your hands up in defeat. “i’m sorry!” you giggled.

felix couldn’t help it. you looked ethereal against clusters of flowers and the best colour in the world. he couldn’t see it, but he felt it. the list of good things associated with it was now changed: happiness, home, summer, lemonade, and now, you.

he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“i thought we were friends?” you countered, smugly. you really didn’t care what you were, all that you knew was that you were drunk on felix’s presence. it wasn’t love or lust, but a comfort that you were addicted to.

“we can be whatever you want.” felix picked a sunflower, one of a smaller size, and held it out to you.

#kwritersworldnet #lee felix imagine #lee felix scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #lee felix x reader #stray kids au #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fanfic #— COLOUR THEORY.

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songfell-ut · 4 years

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Chapter 3, still a-comin’

Cirumstances, am I right, folks?

If you didn’t make it through Chapter 2 or this is all 100% new, welp, this is a continuation of this comic by @lostmypotatoes, after which Frisk has gotten him to be her witchly apprentice, but now he’s trying to flake on her. ACTION

Sans was getting soft in his old age, or maybe from proximity to someone as aggressively good-hearted as the High Priestess, because he found he didn't want to demolish the entire wall. For one thing, without his magic, it'd be too much effort. More importantly, though, Frisk's rooms were many, many stories above the ground, and falling masonry could kill or injure someone below who hadn't earned it. Most important of all: Frisk would probably end up trying to help dig them out and put herself in danger.

He also figured that he had time to do things neatly and cost her less in repairs. Everything had been loosened by that first colossal blow, but he had to give it a few more whacks before he could start pulling it apart, making a pile of glass shards, wood paneling, bricks and stones in front of her office. Luckily, whoever had constructed the outside wall hadn't done a great job, or else it would've taken him all night. A carefully judged body-slam was enough to weaken the remaining support structures; a few kicks and a yank created a space big enough for the giant skeleton to squeeze through, and then he could see the barrier itself.

Panting, Sans took a moment to survey his handiwork. It sucked to exert himself like that, but he figured that sometimes in life, you just had to punch things until they broke.

Unfortunately, he didn't have that option with the barrier. The old stories came back to him as he stared at the golden latticework hovering outside the ruined wall. How was he going to get through without touching it directly or throwing something big enough to hurt someone below?

His eyes fell on the worktable and the vials of stuff he'd made this afternoon. Four hadn't been infused yet. Sans grabbed one, pulled off the cork and, with a speck of magic, willed the liquid to boil, burn, dissolve anything it touched. It promptly began to fizzle and hiss in his hand, and he had to fling it away like an idiot before it started eating through his metacarpals.

He did one thing right in throwing it at the barrier, which instantly melted and let the chilly night air wash over him. Outside, moonlight shadowed the bricks of a nearby wall that stretched almost all the way to the ground, ending in the roof of a building only a couple stories high. He could hop out, grab onto the brick edifice, climb down safely and be gone before Frisk even got back up here, never mind moving the statue and getting the doors open. From there, it'd only be a matter of time before his magic regenerated and he could take a shortcut home.

Poor Frisk. She'd tried. Hell, she'd survived his murder attempts and taught him a few things, and he'd never forget her.

Anyway, she was better off losing track of him and finding a smaller, tamer monster to work with. What was she even getting from him being here, besides a hell of a lot of trouble?

The question was supposed to be rhetorical, but as if in reply, he thought of Frisk standing at the worktable with her arm up those ridiculously oversized trousers, grinning and saying, "The pleasure of your company," looking up at him like...well, like he was her friend, not an inferior or a dangerous monster or a giant pain in the ass, pun absolutely intended. Of course, it wasn't as if she had many other friends, but he couldn't tell himself that she was just using a captive freak to keep her company; he already knew her too well for that.

This, right here. This was why he needed to leave now. The skeleton took a few steps back, gauging the distance to—

Whhhsh went something in his mental ear. He jerked around to see Frisk standing half in his shadow, half in the moonlight, with her veil in her hand and absolute murder in her eye. "Sans." It was a whisper, lost in the wind.

Shit fuck shit shit shiiiiiiit fuckity fuck SHIT rang in his head as the satchel hit the floor. "Frisk?" he whispered.

Frisk beckoned him closer with one finger. Unbelieving, he knelt, and she punched him so hard that he almost felt it. "Here is what's going happen," she said as he touched his jaw. "I assume you've blocked the doors, so you will go and unblock them, and I'll tell the guard that you were—we'll say you were fighting off an assassin, and everyone will be impressed when they see how much damage you did trying to kill him before he escaped. Won't they?"

Sans nodded helplessly. "How...how'd you...?"

"How did I get here?" She tossed the veil aside, letting it drift to the floor. "Let me tell you a story, Sans. Once upon a time – yesterday morning – I had a long talk with Dr. Serif. He said you probably didn't intend to stay for a whole month, and I needed to be on my guard, just in case you decided to pull a stunt like this. I didn't want to believe him, but I followed his advice, and lo and behold, less than a week later, I caught my lying, backstabbing apprentice trying to break his word because he was apparently too bored with me to waste time learning crucial information for the survival of his entire race! The end!"

Frisk had to pause for breath. The boss monster took great exception to that last accusation, and he doubted that was actually the end of the story, but he was afraid to interrupt. "Do you see this?" she continued. Sans flinched as the tiny woman ripped off her brooch and brandished it at him. "Dr. Serif brought it yesterday afternoon. It seems he'd taken some of your magic while you were unconscious, and not only did he refuse to return it to you, he said I couldn't be here every hour of the day, and I needed to have this if you ever tried to break loose. He infused it with enough of your power to teleport myself one time." Another deep breath. "Do you have any idea how angry I am that he was right, and I was right to listen? And do you know how sick to my stomach I feel right now?!" Frisk threw the brooch to the floor, where it shattered. The last bit of magic quietly evaporated, and she pressed the back of her hand to her lips, eyes unfocusing. "And...how do you stand—"

There it was. He couldn't believe it had taken this long to catch up with her—the first time he'd tried using a shortcut, it left him feeling like his head had been screwed on backwards.

The skeleton glanced at the open, crumbling wall, then at Frisk, who was leaning heavily on the worktable, eyes closed. Then...

The priestess squeaked as Sans swept her up into the crook of his arm and headed to the bathroom. "Put me down!" she croaked, thumping his clavicle.

"Yes, m'lady," he said, opening the door, poking the light on and placing her at the very back of the room. "Go for it."

Once she was settled and could puke in relative peace, Sans went to the double doors leading into the hall, replaced the statue in its niche, and headed back to the workroom. Her office door was blocked by the many chunks of wall piled in front of it, and moving them again would take effort, so the skeleton ignored it for now. He picked up the satchel and set it on the worktable, wondering if the wind was too cold for her and how, exactly, he was going to pay for this, in every sense of the word. After one more look outside, Sans made himself tiptoe back to the bathroom and ask, "You done?"

There was a pause, the sound of water running, and a much longer pause before she opened the door and stared up at him. "What are you still doing here?" she demanded.

Sans blinked at her, mostly for effect. "'Zat a trick question? I'm makin' sure you're okay. That magic can knock you on your ass the first couple times ya try it."

Her face tightened, a hard, bitter expression that probably shouldn't have surprised him. "You don't say." She turned her head to cough, resting her forehead on the tile wall. "Congratulations to you, Sans. I'm here, but I'm in no condition to do anything. Your plan worked after all." She pushed herself upright. "Good night."

Shit. "Uh...Frisk—"

The priestess walked right by to open the double doors. He heard her exclaim something about the guard not being there, and mutter that she'd deal with it in the morning. She barred the doors shut, which he hadn't even noticed was an option, and wobbled past him into her dressing room, evading his halfhearted attempt to steady her.

Hangers rattled. There was an occasional sniffle. When Frisk came out in a long crushed-velvet robe, she actually looked offended to see him. "Don't you have somewhere to be? I said good night, Sans."

Wasn't she going to at least try to stop him? Sure, she was sick and exhausted, but where was her determination? ...Was she so upset that she was determined to cut her losses and let him go?

That really seemed to be it. Well, Sans should have been elated, but he mostly just felt insulted. Besides, he couldn't leave until they got a few things straight, or else he'd spend the rest of his life trying not to think about it. The boss monster wracked his brain for a witty yet conciliatory opener, but what came out was "You're not boring."

A blast of wind howled through the room, flipping the lighter books open and ruffling the weighed-down stacks of paper. Frisk remained stock-still as her short, wavy hair fluttered across her face. "I beg your pardon," she said, colder than the autumn air.

"Okay, yeah, I admit it. I was gonna ditch ya," he said desperately. "But it wasn't 'cause I don't like you or I don' care about helping the other monsters. I—you remember all you heard about Papyrus, right?" Her expression softened a little as she nodded. "I had a dream about him last night that I'm pretty sure was real. Me bein' gone and him not knowin' I'm okay is killing him, Frisk. I can't..."

She stayed silent as Sans pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. It had been so long since he'd told someone the entire truth that he felt completely exposed. It was scary as hell, but he owed it to her and to Pap. "Ya gotta understand," he mumbled. "My brother's all I got left, and I'm all he's got. You've been nothin' but fair to me, and it's not yer fault there's no real way t'contact 'im. I just...I can't go a whole month without lettin' him know I'll be home soon, and I can't dream at him with yer barrier up." He sat down with his legs crossed, staring at the floor. "I spend too much damn time away as it is. He never knows for sure if I'm comin' back."

Frisk swallowed. "Why didn't you tell me sooner how important this was to you? And what do you mean, 'dream at him'?"

"I didn't bother 'cause you might'a thought I was lying to make you feel sorry fer me. I know I wouldn't trust me." The skeleton jerked his head at the ruined wall. "What I mean is, I can talk to Pap while we're both dreamin', but you wouldn't be there to hear what we were saying. I could tell him all sorts of crap, like how strong the High Priestess is and how much safer it'd be for us monsters if she was dead."

The priestess was silent again. Sans risked a glance in time to see her reach up to sweep her hair behind her ear, only to yelp in pain. Sure enough, as she raised her hand to inspect it, the outside knuckle was red and swollen. "Augh! How did I not notice this?" Frisk tried to move it and had to stifle another exclamation. "Wonderful. If it hurts this much, I must have broken it." She made an incoherent noise and started toward the rack of finished potions on the worktable.

Sans dimly recalled that humans didn't feel as much pain when they were scared or excited, and that it could catch up to them pretty fast. It also occurred to him that it was a bad idea for a small human to hit a thick-headed skeleton with her bare hand. "What are you doin'?" he wanted to know. "You can heal that up in a jiffy."

"I can't heal myself," she said brusquely. "I'm not very adept at healing to begin with, and I can't make it work on me at all."

That couldn't be right. "Ya mean to tell me you're good enough to hold me off and keep me penned in for days with no magic, but—"

"Leave me alone."

Her voice was so quiet and furious that he stopped dead. But as she picked a vial and started to pull the cork out with her teeth, Sans got up and held his own hand out. "Lemme see."

With as much dignity as she could muster, Frisk closed her mouth and handed him the vial. He put it back impatiently and beckoned again. "Not that, dummy. Yer hand."

The priestess gave him a long, eloquent look. When he didn't move, she placed her broken hand in his huge one, wincing as his thumb closed lightly over her wrist. It was hard to remember how to turn his magic green, but she'd been right about intentions: it helped to think about how badly he wanted it to work, not only to help her, but to prove that he was capable of fixing things as well as destroying them.

Sure enough, within seconds, his palm began to glow as if he held a handful of emeralds. When Sans could bring himself to let her go, she flexed it easily. "You've gotten some magic back already," she observed. Frisk smiled at him for a moment, and he couldn't not smile back. "You know," she said, anger rapidly resurfacing, "you're not only a lying reprobate, you are a huge idiot." She rapped her knuckles on his palm. "I've always had a barrier guarding the bedroom from any external magic. If that was the only thing keeping you from reaching Papyrus, you should have asked me to remove it."

Sans sat down again. "But—"

"As for the possibility of giving him illicit information, I will ask you this only once." Frisk moved closer, looking him square in the sockets. "Do you intend to tell the other monsters, at any point, that your race would be better off with me dead?"

He didn't even have to think about it before he answered, "Not anymore. You're pretty damn useful as you are, speakin' up on our behalf to the other humans. I don't see anyone pressuring you into screwin' us over."

A brief smile. "I'm glad to hear it. For my part, I don't mind letting you talk to your brother as long as you take me with you. I'd love to say hello—I've heard so much about him that it'll be like meeting an old friend." She stifled a yawn. "If you start tattling on me in some fashion, I can always pull the barrier back up."

"...You want me to...bring you...in my dream?" Blink. Blink. "But how—what're you gonna—"

"One thing at a time, Sans. First, we're going to bed."

"We're what now?"

"If you're not leaving yet, then we're going to bed, now. This mess can wait till morning." With a nod at her blocked office door, Frisk motioned for him to follow her into the bedroom. "Come along. There's nowhere else for me to sleep, and I'm freezing."

And so it was that Sans found himself lying rigid on the huge feather mattress, the priestess curled up like a cat in the armchair. He had no idea why he was so nervous; he couldn't even muster a semi-joke about her joining him in bed. "I've heard of this spell before," said Frisk, who seemed unperturbed by their proximity. "It's not very complicated. You've just healed me, and I've recently used some of your magic, so we have enough of a connection that I should be able to find you once we're asleep. ...The key word being sleep, Sans. You have to relax. I'm not going to eat you, no matter how short-sighted and dishonorable you've been."

"You're not gonna let that go, are ya?" he mumbled.

"You have no idea. We haven't even talked about repairing the wall yet." Her voice warmed again. "For now, though, don't worry about it. We need to find Papyrus and set you both at ease."

Now Sans felt nervous and extremely weird again. He turned onto his side so she couldn't see him changing color. "'Kay. I...yeah. Thanks."

"Of course," she said, as though it was the most natural thing in the world to do a favor for someone who had completely betrayed her trust, and turned off the witchlight. He felt her raise another barrier at the bedroom door, one solid enough to stop an army, and a thinner barrier disappeared from behind the headboard. "There," she said in the darkness. "We'll see how well this works. Go to sleep, Sans."

That seemed unlikely, but he'd forgotten who he was dealing with. When about ten minutes had passed and the orange light of his eyes was still going strong, something wonderful started creeping up on him, a soothing vibration that spread through every bone in his body before he even knew what he was hearing. It was Frisk humming, of course, and of course it worked; Sans was more than content to let the sound and her presence lull him to sleep.

He jerked upright as something hit his skull, reflexively swatting the air and yelling, "Piss off!"

The lights were back on. In fact, it was full daylight, or what passed for it. Sans rubbed his eye sockets, turning this way and that. He was still in bed, but the bed stood alone in the middle of an open, snowy field. Kid monsters were racing back and forth under gaily decorated trees, throwing snowballs at each other and catching him in the crossfire.

The skeleton brushed himself off, reasoning that the Underground could be a weird place, but it wasn't quite random-snow-bed weird. This must be a dream, then. Damn it...

Oh, well. At least it was a nice one, and it felt pretty real—his good dreams tended to be fuzzy, while every single one of his nightmares was incredibly vivid.

Footsteps crunched on the snow behind him. "Well, hello there. That was simple," said Frisk, looking around them as he got up. She was in her plush robe and bare feet, but seemed at ease. "So this is Snowdin. Which house is yours?"

"BROTHER?"

Sans froze as a familiar shape emerged from a nearby fog of ice crystals. "Papyrus?" he whispered.

"I KNEW IIIIIT—OOF!" Papyrus had run to give his brother a bear hug and fell straight through him, as if Sans was also made of fog. "WHAT IS THIS, SANS? HAVE YOU BECOME TOO LAZY TO STAY SOLID?" he accused him from the ground.

"It's a dream, bro. This happens every damn time," the boss monster said wearily. "Just keep it together and listen, okay? I'm here t'let you know—"

"WAIT. A HUMAN? IS THAT...KRIS?" Papyrus was staring up at Frisk, his face somehow creased in puzzlement. "IS IT REALLY YOU? I THOUGHT YOU'D BE...KRIS-ER, NYEH."

Sans snorted. "Not every human is Kris, Pap. Don't be racist."

"Hello," Frisk said, offering a bright smile and a hand up. "My name is Frisk. It's wonderful to meet you, Papyrus."

"YES, IT IS. NYEH-HEH-HEH! YOU ARE CLEARLY VERY WISE AND ATTRACTIVE, HUMAN!" Papyrus brushed the snow from his fake armor, throwing his red scarf back over his shoulder in so dramatic a fashion that he didn't notice Frisk grinning, though Sans sure did. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY GREAT AND ATTRACTIVE DREAM?" he added.

Still smiling, Frisk watched the pack of young monsters run by. The monsters didn't seem to notice them, though the bed was still there and her purple robe stood out like a dark beacon against the snow. "Your brother wanted to see you, and I decided to come along," she explained. "Sans was captured by humans about a week ago when he was out looking for food, but please don't worry about—"

"CAPTURED?!" Papyrus clapped both hands to his skull. "THIS IS TERRIBLE! PLEASE DE-CAPTURE HIM IMMEDIATELY, HUMAN, OR ELSE I...I...!"

"Pap! Take it easy. She's okay. 'Fact, she's the reason I ain't dead or enslaved right now." Sans plucked at his shirt. "See, she even got me some new duds. You can finally stop bitching about what I'm wearin'."

Papyrus stopped flailing long enough to examine Sans' shirt. "NYEH! I SEE NO HOLES OR QUESTIONABLE STAINS. WHAT SORCERY IS THIS?"

Sans smirked, letting his brother poke at him in vain. "I told ya, bro, I just got it. You don't hafta rip me apart like this."

Frisk rocked back and forth on her heels. "So," she said over Papyrus' exasperated groaning, "I gather you knew a boy named Kris from the last human delegation. Is that right?"

"YES, IT IS RIGHT! KRIS WAS OUR DEAR FRIEND," Papyrus said as Sans grimaced and turned away. "WE WENT FOR WALKS AND HAD SLEEPOVERS, AND MADE HAND PUPPETS THAT ALSO HAD SLEEPOVERS. IT WAS LIKE HAVING A CUTE LITTLE PET THAT CLEANED UP AFTER ITSELF. WE'VE ALL MISSED HIM VERY MUCH, NYEHHH."

"Yeah, he left with the other humans," Sans muttered. "Can we please move on now?"

"Yes, of course. I'm going to borrow your brother for a few more weeks," Frisk told Papyrus. The latter was glaring at his brother's new shirt again, as if daring it to make a false move. "I have a plan to start making peace between monsters and humans," she continued, "but I need a monster's help to do it. Can you get along without Sans until I send him back to the Underground?"

"HMMMM." Papyrus straightened, one hand on his chin. "YOU WON'T HURT HIM?" he asked, sounding almost timid.

"Absolutely not, Papyrus," she said firmly. "He'll be back safe and sound."

Papyrus nodded, evidently impressed by her sincerity. "I AM IMPRESSED BY YOUR SINCERITY, HUMAN. IF THIS DREAM IS NOT MY MAGNIFICENT IMAGINATION PLAYING TRICKS ON ME AGAIN, THEN I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SHALL SPARE MY GOOD-FOR-NOTHING BROTHER FOR A LITTLE WHILE LONGER. NYEH-HEH-HEH!" Without warning, the skeleton grabbed at Sans' wrist bones. "HUMAN! I WOULD LIKE TO TALK TO MY BROTHER IN SECRET FOR A MOMENT, IF YOU WILL PLEASE EXCUSE US. IT WILL BE SECRET!"

"Of course," said Frisk. "I'll be right here. Just make sure it's not too secret, please."

Sans covered his face with his hand as Papyrus marched toward the fog bank, still holding his brother's imaginary wrist. "Ya can't touch me, remember?" Sans called after him.

"...I KNEW THAT. CONGRATULATIONS, BROTHER! YOU HAVE PASSED THIS TEST! NYEH. ...HEH." Papyrus waited for Sans to join him, and they walked towards the river. "ARE YOU SURE THAT'S NOT KRIS?" the younger skeleton asked doubtfully.

Sans laughed, jerking his thumb in Frisk's direction. "Does that human look like a sixteen-ish-year-old boy?"

"HMM. NO, IT LOOKS LIKE A HUMAN. BUT! IT SEEMS DELIGHTFUL! THE GREAT PAPYRUS THINKS YOU SHOULD BRING IT BACK HERE WITH YOU. IT'S BEEN TOO LONG SINCE WE HAD A HUMAN TO PILLOW-FIGHT WITH, NYEH-HEH-HEH."

"That's probably not a great idea," Sans remarked.

"NYEH-HEH! WHY NOT?"

"I could spend literally the rest of the night tellin' you all the reasons why not, but the biggest one is that she's the High Priestess, Pap. The other humans would definitely notice if she was gone."

"HIGH PRIESTESS?" Papyrus cocked his head in perplexity. "WHY WOULD A DELIGHTFUL HUMAN BE A HIGH PRIESTESS? DON'T THEY CREATE BARRIERS?"

"It's complicated, bro. Look, I've gotta go soon. Is there anything else you wanna say?"

His younger brother paused, and sighed, shoulders slumping. "SANS. WERE YOU REALLY JUST LOOKING FOR FOOD? WHEN YOU GOT CAUGHT, I MEAN."

The bigger skeleton tried to kick a chunk of ice into the water, his foot passing right through it. "I wasn't slaughtering humans, if that's what you're askin'. I was mostly tryin' to track down monsters who've been sold off recently. But I did want to see how the humans' harvest turned out, an' it looks like it was pretty good this year."

Papyrus nodded, still troubled. "ALL RIGHT, BROTHER. I UNDERSTAND. PLEASE, JUST...TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF. NYEH."

"You too, Pap." Sans felt a familiar stab of trepidation and backed away. "Shit, I've got a nightmare coming. I'll see ya soon, okay? Don't tell anyone about Frisk!"

He had to turn and run before Papyrus could answer. Frisk was sitting on the bed in the snow field, ducking snowballs. She turned and started to say, "I hope you weren't telling on m—"

"No more dream! End it now!" he panted.

The priestess didn't waste time asking stupid questions. As the nightmare nipped at Sans' heel, Frisk made a quick swiping gesture, and just like that, he was back in bed, in the bedroom, staring at the sun-washed ceiling.

The skeleton sighed in relief. He rested his forearm across his eyes. Between the radius and ulna, he could see the flickering shadows of birds flying past the open windows. "Thanks, kiddo," he said, "an' thanks for lettin' me talk to him. I really appreciate it." Sans scratched the top of his skull, rolling over to face Frisk. "So, how'd you like Papyrus? He's a cool guy, huh?"

Frisk didn't answer, because she wasn't there. A strange human child sat in the armchair, perched on the edge of the seat, holding a kitchen knife. It stared at him with red-shining eyes, teeth bared in a horrible grin.

If Sans had had more than a shred of magic left, he would have pulled all his blasters at once and obliterated half the building. As it was, he jerked back, nearly choking in terror. The child wasn't moving, but menace radiated off it like heat from a furnace, eyes boring into him as its grin widened. Sans looked around wildly for an escape. The windows were too small, but maybe he could—

A sharp whistle split the air. The barrier snapped on, and the child vanished.

Sans was sitting upright in bed again, in the dark, awake, panting as though he'd run a mile in a few seconds. "Sans, I am so sorry!" The light snapped on. Frisk stood at his bedside, wide-eyed, clutching the neck of her robe. "I didn't think I was going to have that nightmare again before we woke up! I thought it'd be fine, I—" She took a step onto the bed, leaning over to grab his humerus. "Sans? Sans! Please say something!"

He shook her off, and she stumbled backwards, falling into the armchair. "What the fuck was that?" he rasped.

Frisk sat up and pulled her robe tighter around her shoulders. "I'm sorry," she said again. "I should have warned you. It's the reason I have that barrier up in the first place." She swallowed hard. "It shouldn't happen again."

"It better not," Sans snarled. "What the hell was that thing, anyway?"

"I don't know." She looked so miserable that Sans wanted to smack himself, but he was too unnerved to lie and tell her that it was okay; he was shaking so hard that he could almost hear his bones rattle.

For a solid minute, the only other sound in the room was the wind blowing outside the shuttered windows. "I hope you had a good talk with Papyrus," Frisk said presently with a decent attempt at calmness, placing her palm on the bedroom door to dissolve the thick barrier. "I can see why everyone likes him so much. It's good to know he hasn't changed."

The skeleton grunted, hoping she was smart enough not to ask him any questions about him changing. "Yeah. Thanks for fixin' that up for us. Sorry I pushed you just now."

"It's fine. It was an accident." Frisk fiddled with the key in its lock. "You know, Sans, I'd like you to help repair the damage you caused, but...if you still want to leave, I won't stop you. I wasn't thinking of how much it was to ask, staying an entire month."

Sans stared at her. She wouldn't turn around. Finally, he said, "What the crap, lady? You already let me talk to Pap. That was the whole reason I tried to bust out of here. Why wouldn't I stick around 'n make it up to you? Ya really think I'm that bad?"

There came a soft knock at the door, startling them both. "Your Eminence?" It was a male voice, deep and pleasant. "Are you awake, my lady? Please forgive my intrusion, but His Holiness urgently requests your presence."

Daylight was showing through the closed shutters. "Yes, of course. I'll be there in a moment," said Frisk, running her fingers through her hair, eye twitching as she found a tangle.

Sans watched her, and watched her move to unlock the door, feeling a different sort of unease. "Wait a sec," he rumbled. "Frisk, wait. Didn't you bar the big doors last night? How'd he get—"

The man knocked again. "Just a moment," Frisk repeated, turning the key. She glanced behind her. "What, Sans?"

The door banged open. Before she could blink, a stranger in tattered clothes rushed in, his arm raised to strike.

The boss monster was already moving. The man lunged, and there was a sound of steel hitting bone; the priestess found herself staring at the tip of a knife, inches from her face, jutting from between massive skeletal fingers. "Sans!" cried Frisk, twisting around to look at him.

Red clouded Sans' vision, but one clear spot remained: with his free hand, he reached out, corralled Frisk and gently maneuvered her behind him, fingers forming a protective cage. The other hand flexed briefly, then backhanded the intruder so hard that the man rolled clear out of the bedroom, hitting the worktable with a crack and a thump.

The skeleton clamped his teeth on the dagger's hilt and pried the blade out from between his knuckles, jerking his head to fling it to the other side of the bedroom. There was technically nothing to pierce where the knife had been lodged, but it still stung. He glanced down to be sure Frisk was unscathed, then edged forward into the workroom.

To his great irritation, the man wasn't dead; he was not only conscious, but pulling himself up on the table. "Who the fuck are you?" demanded Sans. Only the vague awareness that Frisk was watching kept him from grabbing the guy and pinching his head off.

The stranger wiped the corner of his mouth on his sleeve, squinting against Sans' literal glare. He was gaunt and generally gross-looking, but had moved fast enough and aimed the knife with enough skill to peg him as a professional killer. "What's a big-ass talkin' skeleton doing here? They said you got sold off already!" The assassin laughed shakily. "So it was you bashin' that wall down! What the hell'd you even do that for? It took me all goddamn night to get out!"

Sans glanced at the office door, which was ajar. Several pieces of broken masonry had been moved out of the way by shoving the door repeatedly from the inside. The guy must have snuck into the office after Frisk left, while Sans was in the bedroom but before he blocked the entrance, and gotten trapped in his hiding place by all the debris piled against it.

It would have been kind of funny, except that if Sans really had left, Frisk would be dead now.

The young woman was leaning on Sans' femur, peering around his outspread fingers. He could feel her trembling, which only intensified his urge to kill something. "I know you," she said. "You spoke to me after a service last week. You said I...I..."

"Had a positively angelic voice?" The man leered at her, showing several broken teeth. "S'truth. But I needed to be sure 'xactly who you were. The last High Priestess used body doubles sometimes." He looked her up and down. "Gotta say, I like yours a lot better."

She shuddered. Sans leaned down, not taking his now-flaming eyes from the assassin. "You need this piece of crap alive, Frisk, or can I take 'im apart now?"

"Frisk?" The man cackled, slapping the worktable with a dirty palm. "That's your real name, lady? That's gotta be the dumbest—"

And just like that, he launched himself at Frisk, closing the distance and ducking between Sans' legs like a snake. He whipped another knife out from his belt and would have sliced her neck open if Sans hadn't been ready to nudge her out of the way, grabbing the assassin on the backswing and slamming him against the open door.

Before Frisk could react, Sans turned his head to the opposite wall and said, "Holy crap, what's that?" As she whirled around, Sans plucked the knife out of the man's hand and gave him one squeeze, very quick and very hard. "Whoops, my bad. Nothin' there," he said to cover the sound of ribs breaking.

The priestess started to turn back. "Stay where you are," Sans ordered, pulling the assassin out of her line of sight, stepping into the workroom and closing the door behind him. "Oh, no you don't," he said loudly, as if chasing the man down. "Nooo, stop! We just want to talk to...oh, no!"

The assassin didn't seem to appreciate the theatrics, especially because Sans was carrying him straight to the broken wall. Ignoring the man's feeble protests, the skeleton drew his arm back and murmured, "Now think about what you've done, pal," before tossing him out into the open air.

His only concern was that the bastard would make a lot of noise on the way down, but it seemed he'd knocked the wind out of him, ha. By the time Frisk peeked out of the bedroom, the assassin was long gone.

Sans shook his head and turned from the opening. "Nope. Sorry, I couldn't catch him before he told us who sent him." He wished he had his jacket; his hands had nowhere to go. "You all right, Frisk?"

The priestess gulped and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "No, I'm not." She slid down, back to the wall, and wrapped her arms around her knees.

She didn't seem be physically hurt, so for the moment, he said, "'Kay," and stared at the slightly open office door. "Son of a bitch. I'm gonna tear that guard a new one. D'you think he knew you were sleepin' in there, or was it just a convenient...place to...crap."

Frisk's shoulders had hunched and her face gone pale. Sans ground his teeth, cursing his stupidity. "Well, it's over. He won't bother you again," he reassured her, coming to kneel beside her. "At least that cover story 'bout the assassin ain't a lie now. Right?"

She didn't look reassured at all. With the threat of bodily harm removed, Sans was out of his element again, with no clue how to help her. Should he frame this as an inconvenient but probably solvable problem that she'd always known might come up? No, that would be dumb. She already had enough problems. She didn't need to worry about more shitheads getting in here to hurt her. As long as she was an important and politically vocal person, it wasn't like she could do much to...

Wait. That was it: Sans had the idea. "Actually, ya know what?" He waited for her to shake her head. "You were sayin' this weird stuff about me leaving once I'd seen Pap. Before we talk about that, I gotta ask, what's the going rate for a bodyguard around here? A good one, not just some moron following you around tryin' to look scary."

She bit her lip, a habit Sans had noticed and been distracted by several times already. "Um...it depends. A skilled full-time personal guard? Anywhere from fifty to a hundred dinar—"

"Oh, nice. I can probably—"

"—an hour. I only sleep a few hours a night, so..." Frisk gave him the ghost of a smile. "If you're offering your services, Sans, I'd be glad to accept. Would a salary of one thousand per diem be acceptable?"

Now he really was at a loss for words. "A thousand a friggin' day?" he repeated blankly.

Frisk nodded. Her shock seemed to be fading as she thought aloud: "You could pay for your clothes in one day, and I can negotiate the repairs down to about ten days' worth. After that, well, wheat is about five dinar a bushel." Despite herself, she sniffled again. "You could buy a lot of wheat, or beans, or...or wedding cakes, or literally anything else you want to take Underground with you."

He was patting himself on the back when, without warning, Frisk's smile faded. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you before I unlocked the door." Sniff. "Thank you for staying with me." Sniff. "And thank you for saving my life."

Shit shit was as far as Sans got before he lost even that bit of coherence. His senses were already heightened by the unexpected danger, his SOUL still feeling a little queasy at how close she'd come to dying right in front of him; to cap it off with Frisk looking up at him like this with big eyes, messy hair, and her robe falling off her shoulder was more than he could handle. She never looked bad, but right now, damn.

Sans didn't realize he was reaching for her until his fingertip brushed her cheek, toying with a wavy lock of hair. "Don't mention it," he said gruffly. "'s the least I can do."

Frisk pulled away, face flushing, but only in momentary surprise. He devoutly hoped that she'd get up and go get dressed, or maybe pack her things, buy a fast horse and leave the kingdom forever, but that damnable woman didn't know any better than to smile and take his hand, or at least rest her hand in the space between two of his fingers. "Just so long as you keep in mind that you're still my apprentice," she said with mock sternness. "Do you promise?"

Fffffffff

Neither of them understood what happened next. Sans felt something welling up that made him want to grab her and...he didn't know what would happen next, but he wanted it so badly that he backed away in sudden alarm. All he knew was that this feeling – this energy – had to go somewhere, and if he directed it at her, he could accidentally mash her into paste. The only thing he could think of was to whip around, look for something else to latch onto, and focus his attention on the pile of stones, etc. by the office.

His magic was barely available, or so he would have said a minute ago. Fueled by the whatever-it-was, though, and with the barrier gone from one of the walls, Sans didn't even have to think about it: Frisk jumped back as the heap of debris by her office began to glow red, rising into the air and flying into the broken wall. To their mutual astonishment, the outside bricks and internal structures zipped back into place first, followed by more bricks, mortar, stone, wood, and finally the glass and lead of the windows. When the dust settled, the entire facade had been imperfectly but almost entirely restored, the floor sagging under the windows.

Sans stared at his hand, still breathing heavily. "Huh," he said by way of explanation.

"Indeed." Frisk absently ran her fingers through her hair again, working out a tangle as she examined the wall. "Did I know you could do that?"

"I didn't know I could do that." Now that the unfamiliar energy was gone, Sans found he wanted to sit down. He sat down next to her, comfortably but not dangerously close. "Welp, I need a break from life," he said, which got a laugh out of her. He snorted. "Break. I actually didn't mean that one."

Frisk gave a long, long sigh. "We'll knock down your fee to three or four days of repairs," she said gravely.

Sans couldn't help grinning. "I always knew there was mortar life than money."

She kept a straight face until he added, "Makin' it pretty again is gonna be a pane in the glass," whereupon she broke out in hysterical, snorting laughter, which cracked him up in turn and guaranteed a minutes-long feedback loop.

As nice as this all was, Sans was a little concerned when he got under control and she kept going, and going, and ended up nearly gasping for breath. "You okay, kid?" he asked. "Ya need some water?"

"Oh, Lord," she wheezed. Frisk wiped her eyes on her already-damp sleeve. "Sans, you're killing me."

Silence. Frisk thought about it, and promptly buried her head as far between her knees as she could get it. "I didn't do that on purpose," she said, muffled and sheepish.

Sans shifted his weight. He wasn't ready to admit to himself how badly the whole attack had scared him, much less to her. Just to check, he considered escaping again – maybe once she was letting him walk around with her outside and his magic was naturally restored – and now, less than twelve hours after doing his damndest at it, he couldn't believe how much he hated the idea. No problem, really; he could chalk it up to her letting him connect with Papyrus and needing to make it up to her. Also, holy shit, one thousand dinar every day for the next twenty-five days? That was as solid a set of reasons as he'd ever come up with.

"Well," he finally said. "Guess you'd better get yer scary witch dress on and go tell everyone about this whole mess." He snapped his fingers, making an odd click, as something occurred to him. That's right—I got both those knives off him. Maybe someone can take a look at 'em and figure out who he was, where they were from."

Frisk raised her head, staring into space. "No," she said, as if to herself. The boss monster looked askance, and she smiled in a small, nasty way he hadn't seen before. "We won't say anything." The smile grew. "I'll go about my day as if nothing happened, except I'll be accompanied everywhere by a ten-foot skeleton. Whoever set him after me will have no idea what happened, and it'll drive them absolutely mad. We can see if anyone incriminates themselves, but...ohh, I'm going to enjoy this."

"It's a neat idea, but the garbage threw itself out already, remember?" Sans indicated the repaired wall. "Someone's bound to notice 'im."

The young woman did a remarkable impression of shock and distress, eyes wide and mouth hanging open before she murmured, "That poor man jumped from such a height? What a hideous tragedy. Peace be upon his soul and those of his loved ones."

"Daaaamn" was all Sans could say. He might have killed the guy and covered it up, but he couldn't look that cute telling a bare-ass lie! Also... "Ain't you a priestess? Isn't that a little...?"

Frisk scowled. Despite her bedhead and furry robe, she was the very image of sternness and, yes, determination. "I was taught that it is my duty to aid the weak and be an instrument of justice against people who, for example, want to stab me in my own bedroom when I've done nothing to harm them. It's no sin to protect yourself."

The skeleton shrugged, holding his hands out. "Okay, that's enough. I think I love ya. Where do I sign up to kill people for you?"

The priestess laughed. "I bet you say that to every girl you try to escape from. And, please, don't kill anyone." She glanced at the clock, and her amusement melted into panic. "Dirt! I have matins in twenty minutes!" She sprang to her feet and made a beeline for her dressing room. "Can you please find my veil for me?" she called before she shut the door.

Sans also got up, muttering, "'Dirt'? Seriously?" as he retrieved the veil from where it had blown onto the table. As an afterthought, he returned to the bedroom and picked up the assassin's daggers. He studied them, saying out loud, "I think I'm screwed, is what I am," then placed them on the nightstand.

He heard Frisk emerge from her dressing room and went to meet her as she asked, "Sans, do you have my—"

He handed the veil over. "Thank you, sir." She threw the veil over her head and adjusted the headdress over it. "May I assume that you haven't been to many religious services?"

"Er..."

"Well, we have an oral contract, effective immediately, and I am going to church, so you are going to church." She inclined her head, moving toward the double doors. "Follow me."

And, of course, he did.

#frans #onwards aoshima

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raleighcarrera · 4 years

Text

finally

ride or die | colt kaneko x mc (ellie wheeler)

but the truth is this / i’ve never seen a mouth that i would kill to kiss / and i’m terrified / but i can’t resist

a coda set somewhere between chapters 7 and 9.

~4.2k words | M (18+)

out of all the girls in los angeles -- out of all the girls in california -- out of all the girls in the world... why did it have to be her?

he’d had crushes before. he’d met plenty of girls that made him feel uncomfortable, not like himself, nervous.

and yet none of the girls he’d ever hooked up with made him feel quite like she did.

only ellie could craft that particular cocktail of deep irritation and annoyance mixed with an aching, longing desire to fuck that self-righteous tone out of her voice and shake it up until he was simmering. she was the only girl he’d ever met who instantly, without even talking to him all that much, located each of his buttons and figured out how to press them perfectly with little more than a few pointed words.

so of course she had to be infatuated with the most insufferable person he’d ever met. it didn’t make any sense; a girl like her should have never looked twice at a loser like logan. he had absolutely nothing to offer her. if colt was being honest with himself, it made him sick. she was wasting her time with an idiot kid who didn’t know how to handle her, and logan was completely ignoring her potential. he didn’t understand what she was capable of... but colt did.

and the thought of what she could do for the crew? what she could do with him, if they put their heads together... admittedly turned him on a little bit.

okay, a lot.

but he saw the way she looked at him. ellie didn’t seem to notice or care that logan hardly knew what she was worth -- she was obsessed with him nonetheless, sleeping in his fucking bed every night, making eyes at him from across the garage every day, taking his side in every argument, even though he was a moron who never knew what he was talking about.

colt was quick to anger; he was self-aware enough to know that. despite his temper, he also knew how to be patient -- how to bide his time carefully. maybe that was in his blood, passed down from his old man. maybe that was what made him such a good planner, what made any scheme he could come up with have a higher probability of success -- he knew when it was important to act, and when it was important to wait.

it was inevitable that logan would find a way to fuck up. he was out of his league with ellie, and he had to know that. all colt had to do was hold out.

eventually, what he’d been waiting for fell right into his lap. but he’d never wanted it like this.

his blood boiled as he stormed out of the shop. he felt like he wanted to punch something -- or someone -- but there was no one around, except for his dad, who he’d just left alone in his office. his mind was racing a mile a minute as he tried to process the information he’d been given.

jesus. how could they do that to her? and not even feel badly about it?

and now he was part of it, too. every minute he didn’t tell her, he was contributing. he was helping them -- helping logan take advantage of her.

a strange feeling was churning in his stomach, twisting it into knots. colt could feel it eating away at his already frayed nerves, and grit his teeth once he identified what it was. guilt.

now she had him feeling guilty, too -- for something he didn’t even do! that was just great. that was perfect.

as if he’d conjured her, just by being angry, ellie’s car pulled slowly into the street in front of the shop. he glared at her as she got out and walked over to him. once she was close enough to see his face without the sun in her eyes, her smile dipped.

“colt? everything okay?”

he tried his best to swallow down some of his anger, but the concern in her voice just worsened it -- what was she doing, worrying about him? he hadn’t even been all that nice to her.

colt stared at her, at war with himself. god, was he angry -- at logan, at his dad, at himself for being in this shitty position. what the fuck was he supposed to do? all he’d ever wanted was for his dad to trust him, to bring him into the operation -- and now he finally had a way to prove his loyalty, and he didn’t fucking want it.

he was dangerously close to blurting it all out. and once he told her, he couldn’t undo it.

“i need to get out of here,” he said abruptly, pushing off the brick wall he’d been leaning against. every second he spent with her looking at him like that brought him closer to a place he knew he could never come back from.

“what’s going on?” fuck her. the expression on her face was open and sincere; ellie looked genuinely worried. fuck her for acting like she wanted to understand him. she was going to go back to her life after this -- at the end of the summer, she’d give it all up and go straight, head off to college and put the whole crew in her rear view mirror. they’d become a story to be shared during drinking games -- the craziest thing she’d ever done. her dirty secret.

“it’s nothing.” he turned and headed inside, towards his bike. he needed to clear his head, and he couldn’t think straight with her looking at him like that.

but she was nothing if not persistent. ellie followed him inside and stood in his way. “where are you going?”

“what’s it to you?” his voice was rough, the words harsh. he needed to get her to leave him alone, but -- all of his usual tricks seemed to be escaping him.

her brow furrowed. colt looked away when she frowned at him. the expression on her face felt... wrong. “you’re obviously -- upset,” she said carefully, “maybe i could come with you?”

he laughed humorlessly. before he could stop himself, colt said, “you’re the one i need to get away from.”

he pulled his helmet out from under the bike, not looking at her. “me?” she sounded confused. “why? what did i ever do to you?”

“nothing,” he bit out defensively, “just -- move, so i can get out of here.”

she shook her head stubbornly. his eyes settled on her hands, which were planted firmly on her hips. “no, i’m coming with you.”

“no, you’re not.”

“yes, i am.”

“fine.” colt reached for the spare helmet and shoved it at her. “if you think that’s what you want. then be my guest.”

she was quiet when she slipped on the back of the bike; he hesitated as his hands found the handlebars. just because she was a colossal pain in the ass didn’t mean that he wanted her to fall off on the 405. “hold on, princess.”

her arms looped around his waist and squeezed tight. as he sped out of the garage and headed towards the highway, he tried to remember the last time he had a girl on the back of his bike. girls at school always loved it when he showed up to parties, but he rarely extended the invite to join him to anyone, even chicks he wanted to sleep with.

of course, ellie was a whole different animal -- not that he was keen on examining that in further detail.

she didn’t say a word on the whole drive down to malibu, but eventually he felt himself relaxing, his breathing turning peaceful as the tension bled from his shoulders. a ride like this always managed to clear his head, and it seemed like it didn’t matter if his biggest stressor was tagging along with him -- speeding down the road with the breeze from the ocean beside him still worked to lighten his mood like a charm.

still, he found it tough to look at her when they both finally stepped off the bike. the stretch of the beach he’d pulled up to was blessedly deserted, and colt drew in a deep breath as he dropped wordlessly down into the sand, staring out at the ocean. after a minute, ellie came and sat down next to him.

“do you want to talk about it?”

just like that, the guilt was back. he knew he should tell her. it was the right thing to do. “yes,” colt answered honestly, “but i can’t. i’m sorry.”

surprisingly, she actually seemed to understand. logan had probably done that to her -- forced her to learn to accept non-answers and bullshit when she deserved the truth. his jaw tightened.

“if you change your mind,” she started softly, “you can always tell me anything.” colt forced himself to turn his head and look her in the eyes. again, she seemed annoyingly sincere. “you can trust me.”

“i don’t trust anyone.”

for some reason, that made her smile. maybe he was getting predictable. “well, you can trust me,” ellie reiterated, “that’s a promise. and i never break a promise.”

this whole thing was so fucked. he had to tell her the truth. if he didn’t tell her, he’d just be hurting her more -- ellie was going to be crushed when she found out. she so obviously thought the sun rose and set with logan. it was going to ruin her life if she ever found out what was weighing so heavily on his mind.

he could feel the words coming up, beyond his control. he was going to blow it.

desperate for a way to stop himself, colt leaned in and kissed her. that was probably just as bad, but -- it worked. everything except for the feeling of her lips on his faded away, and he lost himself in how incredible it was to finally, finally give into the temptation to sink his teeth into her invitingly full bottom lip...

she gasped when he pulled away. the reality of what he’d just done was starting to sink in. this was something he couldn’t ever undo, either.

“i shouldn’t do this.” maybe if he acknowledged it out loud, it’d help him find a way to stop -- or she would realize that he was right, and stop him; colt wished she would scream and push him away and shove him into the sand, but...

she didn’t. she had her hands bunched in his jacket, and she was staring at him with wide, dark eyes.

oh, well. one way or another, his life was already over, anyway.

colt tangled a hand in her hair and pulled her in again. ellie immediately opened up for him, groaning and parting her lips for his tongue. colt held her tightly as she fell against him and kissed her hungrily, his mouth searching and insistent, his intent to completely devour her perfectly obvious. his free hand slid down her side and mapped the curve of her body, committing it to memory.

any moment now, she was going to do what he wanted and shove him off of her, so he was greedy in taking his fill, knowing he’d need the memories to stop himself from doing something insane when he saw logan next. remembering this, later tonight, was the only way he was going to be able to get some sleep.

otherwise, knowing that she was in his bed with no idea that he was using her, like an asshole, would kill him.

ellie pushed forward, trying to climb into his lap. he scrambled back on the sand to let her, welcoming her on top of his thighs with a shiver. his mouth broke away from hers to trail frantic kisses along her jaw, dragging his lips across her soft, sun-warm skin.

carefully, she moved her hands under the hem of his shirt. her palms were warm on the muscles of his stomach and they tensed under her touch as she ran her fingers along the defined lines she found there. he unwillingly let out a shaky sigh. if she didn’t stop --

“god damnit,” he groaned, lifting his head out of the space between her neck and shoulder. he stared at her, breathing hard. ellie looked beautifully debauched, her hair mussed and her cheeks flushed. she was so fucking gorgeous. “fuck.”

his eyes were stuck on her throat as she swallowed. “colt... it’s okay.”

absolutely none of this was okay. in fact, it was misery -- this entire mess was the last thing he’d ever wanted. he shook his head as he reached up and gently pushed her out of his lap, back onto the sand. “it’s not. we’re not doing this.”

her eyes narrowed. sure. she was probably very used to getting her way, especially since logan had to keep her happy one way or another. “why not?”

his heart was racing. he exhaled, running a hand down his face. the anger he’d been doing his best to repress rushed back to him all at once. fuck her for making him resent his dad for involving him in this. fuck her for making him feel this way, for being a weakness. fuck her for looking at him like that, like how she usually looked at logan.

fuck him for wanting her to.

“look --” he stared out at the ocean. that awful, sick feeling was back again. “there are things you don’t know, okay?”

colt pushed the envelope in a lot of ways. he took chances most people wouldn’t, he did things even people who broke the law often couldn’t dream of. he was a risk taker by nature. he wasn’t the type of guy who’d hold off on taking something he really, really wanted.

but he wouldn’t do this to her. he was nothing like logan, and he didn’t want to be. because she deserved better.

“and you have a boyfriend. and you’re happy. so we shouldn’t --”

ellie shook her head. “logan’s not my boyfriend.”

he snorted. “you sleep in his bed every night. you don’t need to patronize me.”

his eyes cut back towards her just in time to watch her cheeks flush deeper. “i’m not. he sleeps on the couch.”

wow. logan really was an idiot. “are you serious?”

“if you don’t want to do this, you can just tell me. you don’t need to make up some reason to get me to back off.” her voice was defensive, and she looked almost embarrassed, when he turned his head back in her direction.

it was actually pretty funny, that she could even think for one second that he didn’t want to kiss her until they both ran out of air.

...but she didn’t take kindly to him actually laughing about it. “colt!”

“sorry.” he smirked at her for the first time all day, feeling a little more like himself as his face pulled into the familiar expression. “but that’s hilarious. of course i want to do this. it’s one of the only things i ever think about.”

his pulse sped up as he watched ellie’s eyes drop deliberately to his lips.

with all the self-restraint he had, he firmly continued, “but we’re not doing it. not while you’re... doing whatever you’re doing with him.”

his eyes traveled over her one last time, taking in the soft, inviting curve of her lips, the way her hair framed her face, how her wide, expressive eyes were staring at him. he was going to be dreaming about this for days.

“so... what?” ellie asked softly. “you want me to -- break up with him?”

he blinked. she had to be kidding. “huh?”

“you said you won’t while i’m -- i mean, we’re not dating, but what would it take? i’d have to find someplace else to stay?”

one of the most annoying things about her was ellie’s ability to leave him speechless. “jesus.” he was frustratingly tongue-tied. he hated what she did to him. “no. come on -- be honest with yourself. i see the way you look at him. you don’t want this.”

“that’s for me to decide,” she argued. “you don’t get to make that decision for me.”

“got it,” he agreed, nodding, “now it makes sense. you only think you want this because i said no.” he thought back to when she’d stormed over to the shop in the rain, ranting and raving about how she’d finally stood up for herself, how her dad didn’t trust her to make her own decisions. she thought that doing this would give her a taste of independence. of course that was it.

colt’s lips twitched as ellie’s mouth dropped open indignantly. she was cute when she was pissed off. “that’s not true! how i feel about you has nothing to do with logan.”

he couldn’t think about this now. this wasn’t what he’d come out here to do. he stood up, brushing sand off his jeans. “come on, i need to take you back. the crew will be wondering where you went.”

colt held a hand out to ellie to help her up. she glared at him as she took it, standing with her jaw set in a hard line, determination in her eyes. he barely had a second to wonder what that look was for before she tugged on their clasped hands, pulling him in close.

ellie’s free hand gripped the back of his head and she kissed him again, her mouth scorching and all-consuming. he didn’t stop her, resting his hand on her waist and letting her take the reigns, lazily moving his mouth against hers. out here, they were just two dumb kids, making out on the beach. so far from the city, there was no one to stop them, and he knew it was probably stupid not to take advantage of that. they might never be alone like this again.

“if we have to stop when we get back,” she whispered, pressing her body in along his, “then i don’t want to go back yet.”

damnit. damnit. damnit. what was wrong with him? her words lit something inside him on fire, and just like that, he couldn’t control himself anymore. his lips found hers again and he lifted ellie into his arms, groaning when she locked her legs around his waist. slowly, he lowered her down into the sand.

colt kneeled over her, trying not to be too demanding -- but it was hard. she was stretched out beneath him, looking like a birthday present, and he was only human. out of all the girls in los angeles, in the state, in the world -- he wanted her.

his hands touched her stomach, her thighs, her face. he tried not to think about the sounds she was making and if she made them when she was with logan, too, his ever-present jealousy rearing its ugly head for the briefest moment before he swallowed it with her next groan.

if he didn’t stop soon, they were going to get dangerously close to public indecency.

“hey,” he said roughly, pulling back enough to press their foreheads together, breathing hard. “i don’t want you to do something you’re going to regret.”

her eyes tracked his face quickly. ellie’s breathing was labored, too. “you seem pretty adamant that i’m making a mistake.”

well. wasn’t she?

colt stared at her seriously. “you don’t know what you want. i don’t want you to blow it before you figure it out.”

logan would forgive her, though. he wasn’t like colt; he’d forgive her for messing around behind his back and never think about it again. it wouldn’t keep him up at night, like it did to him.

“your concern is touching.” her voice was dry -- sarcastic, and he probably deserved that. a taste of his own medicine. colt watched her teeth dig into her own swollen bottom lip. she seemed to be lost in thought. “alright,” ellie said finally, “let’s make this last one count.”

all of her limbs wrapped around him and held on tightly. colt kissed her with everything he had, giving in and letting himself go for it. there was no holding back. he let the part of himself that had been wanting to do this since the sideshow take over and kissed her hard, determined to give her something she wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about. after today, if she had to go back to logan’s bed, he wanted it to be with thoughts of him. he needed her to not be able to forget this.

eventually, she moaned for air, and he forced himself to let her go. ellie’s head tipped back against the sand and he watched her suck in a few deep breaths, sliding his hands reverently down her sides one last time.

okay. he could do this. all he had to do was get up.

her legs squeezed around his waist. damnit.

colt’s lips kissed a trail down her neck, down into the open front of her shirt. if only they were somewhere private, then she’d see what he was really capable of. he’d fantasized about a number of things he wanted to do to her, but the position they were in now was really doing it for him -- the thought of holding her down and giving it to her slow was making his whole body tingle.

ellie wove her fingers into the hair at the back of his head and lifted his face out of her shirt. she was smiling. “it’s getting late.”

he sighed. “yeah.” they’d have to get back to reality sooner or later. he pushed up onto his hands and pressed one last, lingering kiss to her lips. ellie cupped the back of his neck in her hand, and then rolled out from underneath him, pushing to stand.

she was covered in sand. he bit back a smirk as she brushed it from her thighs and tried to shake out the legs of her shorts.

“you know, maybe next time i’ll take you to my favorite spot,” he remarked, as they walked slowly back towards his bike. colt pointedly didn’t think about the way they were both dragging their feet, trying to prolong the inevitable.

“yeah? where’s that?”

“my old man used to take me to this cliff out here, overlooking the water. i’d jump off all the time as a kid, but -- i haven’t done it in years.” he handed her the spare helmet, more gently this time. ellie ducked her head and smiled down at it, like he’d just given her a gift.

“cliff jumping,” she remarked, laughing under her breath. “very on brand.”

his eyes traveled up and down the length of her body. out here, he could really let himself look. for some reason, she wanted him to. “hey, what’s life without a little danger?”

she nestled up neatly behind him as he tore away from the pier. in another life, he might’ve made a day out of their trip -- taken her onto the boardwalk and let her play carnival games, bought her an ice cream, kissed her at the top of the ferris wheel.

but the cards they’d been dealt were different. and he had to make do with what he had.

he pulled over when they were a block from the garage, lifting his helmet so she could hear him. “go ahead. say you went for a walk.”

ellie looked unsure, but he held firm. after a beat, she got off the bike and put the spare helmet away. he watched her expectantly, waiting for her to start walking away.

“thank you,” she said softly, “for today. i feel like i know you a little better now.”

yeah. that was what he’d been afraid of. that sick feeling of guilt rushed him again, and he grimaced, looking away. “don’t get used to it.”

ellie laughed, reaching out to pull his helmet back down. she slid the face shield over his eyes, then leaned in and pressed her lips to the glass. “i’ll see you later?”

sure. why not? that’d be the cherry on top of this fucking disaster of a day, if he got to hang out at the shop tonight and watch her play grab-ass with her boyfriend.

he needed a plan. he had to figure something else out. they couldn’t do this forever.

but in the meantime... he knew there was no way he’d be able to stay away. “yeah.”

he watched her walk off into the sunset. she turned the corner and disappeared, heading towards the shop. he still felt unbearably hot under the collar, warm from the phantom press of her lips.

colt knew he couldn’t outrun the way he felt forever, but even just an afternoon of peace would be welcome. he kicked off from the curb, heading back towards the highway.

he’d have to clear his head all over again.

#colt kaneko #ride or die #colt kaneko x mc #colt kaneko x ellie wheeler #ellie wheeler #myfic #this song is so them :\#please pb release rod 2 let them be happy #i promise i'm going to stop writing this pairing and do other stuff at some point BUT #that day is not today

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sarah-bae-maas · 4 years

Text

Rowaelin AU! chapter two

AU! where the valg wars never happened, but Rowan and Aelin still stumble upon each other anyway

Chapter 1 Ao3 Masterlist

***

This was the worst possible thing that could have happened.

Rowan stood beside the king and queen, completely taken aback by the sight of the princess. When Rowan had gotten roaring drunk the night before and decided to sleep with a seemingly perfect stranger, he could never have imagined that the woman he'd bedded would be the one standing before him now. She was exquisite, and even through the haze of his hangover he knew her to be beautiful.

And to be a colossal mistake.

He was just glad Lorcan wasn't here to witness this embarrassment; he would never live it down.

"Princess Aelin, might I please introduce Prince Rowan Whitethorn of Doranelle, your new mentor."

Either she didn't recognise him, or she hid her expression perfectly. She had the snake smile of any royal plastered on her face, a unique expression in a humble court. The slight tilt of her lips was acknowledging, but nothing else.

"He comes to highly recommended my dear," her father, King Rhoe, said, beaming at his daughter. "Your Uncle Gavriel was the one who told us he would be perfect."

Rowan considered fleeing so that he didn't have to face the wrath of Gavriel if he ever discovered Rowan bedded his niece. Rowan had been saddened that he wouldn't see the male until Gavriel returned from assignment, now he was grateful. He had the chance to wash the scent of the princess off before anyone could notice he was slathered with her.

"He has been a teacher for Doranelle for over a century; he trains their army and is a leading commander."

Aelin's smile tightened, although Rowan didn't think anyone would be able to notice.

"And why would such a high ranking commander come to Orynth to help train me?" Her voice was melodic, and oh so incredibly fake. Did no one else see it?

Rowan looked over the courtiers gathered. He knew Terrasen was a prosperous kingdom, and it showed in their nobility. It was always obvious when wealth and health had been faked, but Orynth really was a dream for its inhabitants. Inhabitants who looked at their princess with concern - not for her, but for themselves. They were afraid.

Interesting.

"Aelin, please," Queen Evalin's voice was taught. "This could help you, don't you understand? We're running out of options, and after-"

"What your mother means to say, my dear, is that Prince Rowan is the best of the best, and we're thrilled to have him here with you. We believe that you could grow so much from this." King Rhoe turned to Rowan, a friendly smile on his face. "You have my full trust with my daughter."

Rowan tried to smile back, as if he hadn’t already devoured the woman he’d sworn to help. How he was going to fix this mess, he didn’t know, but one thing was for sure. He could not, under any circumstances, be involved with the princess.

___

Rowan was wrapping his hands as he waited for Princess Aelin. At first, there was expected to be an audience to their training. He dismissed them thoroughly, or, in the words of Lorcan, aggressively. Now, his commanding officer was the only one in the room, and he was grinning like a banshee.

"This is the best thing to happen to me all day."

"Shut the fuck up, Lorcan."

"I take you here for a break. I give you lots of space to be a moody little shit, and just when it's looking like you might smile again, you have your first one-night stand with the worst possible person."

"You tried to fuck her too."

"Yes, but I was unsuccessful."

Before they could continue bickering, the door to the side of the courtyard opened. They were in a square, outdoor space lined with columns. Behind them were mazes of paths, and high hedges to keep out wandering eyes. It would be an ideal space for physical training, which is what Rowan would start with. If the previous night was anything to go by, she had little control. She could use some refinement - her movement was too wild. Even in the throne room, she was practically vibrating.

The princess walked in with two men at her helm. One man was a brunette human, two swords strapped to his back. The other was a fae male, and Rowan would recognise him anywhere. It was Gavriel's boy, the one that made him leave Doranelle all those years ago. Rowan didn't begrudge him that - Gavriel was head over heels with his woman when they discovered the pregnancy. And as forgiving as the Ashryver's tend to be, they could be archaic in the worst ways.

"Princess, I have requested that there be no audience for our training sessions," Rowan said, voice as impassive as he could make it. He could feel his heart starting to beat faster.

"This is Aedion and Ren, they insist on following me wherever I go." She smiled, taking a step towards him. "They're very needy."

She was talking to him in the same voice she'd used last night, the kind of voice that made you think she was divulging her deepest secrets. It was as if she thought this whole situation was humorous.

Rowan would soon let her know that it was not.

"Prince Aedion, Ren." Rowan nodded at them. "I do not need babysitters, I have been training the most ruthless fae since before you were even a thought in your parent's mind. Lorcan, if you could escort them away while I train the princess."

"That's not happening," Ren smirked. “You may have come highly praised by Gavriel, but you are still a stranger.”

Aedion looked thoughtful. He tilted his head, and Rowan ignored the princess and her guard to take him in.

Gavriel had clearly raised the boy in his image. Everything about him - his defined muscles, scars on his body, posture - spoke of a well-trained soldier. He observed Rowan the way that Rowan looked over him, and he seemed displeased with what he saw. That, or he had quite the poker face.

“I’ve heard stories of you and him,” Aedion swept his hand in the direction of Lorcan, “my entire life. You could be the worst thing that has ever stepped foot into this court if you wanted to be. I know the best things about you, but I’m also well aware of the shittest. I suspect the only reason you are held in such high regard is because, so far, you have been on the same side as us. For only my trust in my father, I’ll leave you with her.” Aedion stepped around the princess, his gaze feral as he approached Rowan. “But if you cross her, be warned that it will be a signature on your death warrant.”

With that, the boy turned and stormed away, Ren following him after a quick scowl in their direction. As soon as they were out the door, Lorcan opened his big fat mouth with a rapturous laugh. “The unwarranted confidence on that boy is astounding. He couldn’t step an inch in our direction before he’d be dead.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Leave, Lorcan.”

He looked at him aghast. “Why?”

“I told you, no babysitters. Piss off.”

Lorcan bowed theatrically to Rowan and winked at the princess before escorting himself out, leaving Rowan alone, finally, with her.

She wore loose clothes that would help her body breathe in the heat. Her shirt was short sleeved and white, and dipped just to the top of her chest, hinting at what may lie beneath. A brown belt was at her waist, a few knives casually hanging from it. Her hair was up in a tight bun on her head, making her now-human face longer and sharper. This must be her animal form - how curious. A light breeze blew through, and he could still smell his scent on her. Any fae who came across them both and was worth their weight would know what had transpired between Rowan and the woman before him.

He was unsure of what to say now that they were alone.

“So, this was… unexpected,” she breathed, her face finally showing something other than indifference. “When I was told they were shipping someone in to train me, I expected some old bastard.”

Rowan swallowed hard. “I can assure you Princess, I am the best.”

“Aelin, please call me by my name.”

He ignored her plight. “Princess, stand with your legs shoulder width apart. I want to see what you can do.”

___

His offer had sounded sexy at first, but Aelin soon found out that he was gruelling. There was no chit-chat, certainly no flirting, and he pushed her to her limits. He handed her weapon after weapon and kicked her ass every time, assessing her skills in each. In hand to hand combat, her favourite, he’d had her on her back barely able to breathe in seconds. It was a far cry from the night before, when she had been breathless for very different reasons. Any time she tried to speak, he would invent some new way to torture her. More surprisingly, every time her flames rose to the surface of her skin and started to burn, she would feel a blanket of magic smother it.

“I don’t understand,” she said five hours into their session. “Why can’t I use my magic?”

He clicked his tongue. “The magic will come, but right now, I want to see what else you can do.”

She gritted her teeth and continued, pushing through the burning pain in her limbs. It was another forty minutes before Rowan finally called it. He looked barely affected while she was covered in sweat and barely able to breathe.

“An ice bath will help with the pain. I’ll see you at the same time tomorrow. At the behest of your parents, I’ve placed wards on your room so that your fire might be contained in the event of an accident. They won’t stop anything if I’m not there, but they’ll slow it down.”

“When did you go in my room?” she heaved, her knees and hands shaking. Blisters littered her hands, and if she didn’t think it would make her look weak, she’d run to the healers and have them soothe them.

“I did it from your balcony yesterday afternoon, I was told you were out with Dorian.”

“So you’ll call him Dorian but you won’t call me Aelin? Are you punishing me for forgetting to ask you name last night.”

Rowan was packing up the equipment they’d used, cold in his movements. Facing away from her, he said, “Gavriel may have given me a reason to come here, but it was your father who approached him, to ask if the rumours about my abilities were true. He’d heard about me from King Dorian the first, after I helped his son. That’s how I was able to get here so quickly, I came with him from Adarlan.”

“So you’re what, friends?”

“Some might say that.”

“Two friends for two countries.” Her lips tentatively turned up, hoping that even without her flame she could warm him.

Rowan didn’t smile back like she was expecting. He had been hard during their training, but she thought that was just because he was in instructor mode. She was still struggling to put the two Rowan’s she knew together. The one from the night before, that was playful and enticing, and the one here, who was a talking statue.

“So, a blacksmith?” she teased, wondering why he had lied about his profession.

“It’s a hobby. You aren’t a pianist.”

“I really do play every week at the theatre. I’m doing a solo tomorrow, if you’d like to come and watch.” What she didn’t say if that shewould like him to come. She felt inexplicably drawn to him, but that could just be from a false sense of connection driven by her horniness.

“I’ll be busy.”

“Next week, then.”

He sighed deeply, turning his face to the ceiling as he finished putting away the last sword. “Princess, last night was a mistake, one fuelled by alcohol and anonymity. It won’t happen again.”

She scrunched up her face. “I wasn’t asking you to sneak into my room and fuck me, I was asking if you’d like to see me play since we’ll be spending so much time together. We may as well get to know each other.”

“I’m not interested in knowing you. You’re a job. An obligation. I’m here as a favour to an old friend, and because your parents think you’re an incompetent heir who is more likely to burn her kingdom down than rule it.”

Aelin flinched at the words, knowing they were true. Not just his total lack of interest, which by now was starkly apparent, but also why her parents had brought him here. She saw it every time they looked at her, the love, but also the fear that she would destroy them all. Her eyes burned, and she blinked hard. Gods, what a pathetic picture she must have painted.

“Noted.” Aelin pressed her lips together and got up, striding off. She made sure her back was straight and shoulders were up, feigning so he didn’t know how much his words affected her. With her hand on the doorknob, she asked one last question before she would sequester herself away. “What kind of magic do you have anyway?”

“You may be fire, but I’m all water and air - everything needed to obliterate you.”

As soon as she was out of his sight, she violently vomited.

#rowaelin #elorcan #AU #fanfic #kingdom of ash #throne of glass #tog #koa

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