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80s4life · 2 years

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The Little Things

Word Count: 2,516

Status: Not Requested!

A/N: You know when it's Mickey Rourke, you'll find something for every character here. XD

Fandom: The Wrestler 2008

Relationship: Robin Ramzinski/ Randy "The Ram" Robinson x Reader

Summary: When life takes a new turn and Randy is thrown into retirement, he slowly loses himself in the boredom of everyday life and the more easy way of getting by. With no one to turn to, no people to talk to, he feels it might be time to just move on, then you came around.

Warnings: mentions of possible suicide, abusive relationship/ domestic abuse, strong language, drug mentions and usage (testosterone/steroids/cigarettes), kinda angsty, fluff, bad

Masterlist Miscellaneous Masterlist (In use unless this fandom has enough to branch into its own masterlist)

{gif is not mine, credits go to -> @do-androidsdreamof-electricsheep}

Slamming the door behind you, it's hard to miss the familiar boom of his voice screaming at you, testing you, begging for you to say one word.

You were lucky you got out of there in the first place, given the gun he'd had loaded on the coffee table, his imposing form constantly looming over you, and his patronizing yelling and degrading keeping you stuck in the stuffy trailer.

"I fucking hate you!" you spit, spinning on your heel as he neared the door, giving you a detailed description on how you needed him to survive. "I'd rather be dead on the street than ever end up here again!"

"Yeah? Don't come back, you filthy whore! All you were was a good lay and a house maid anyway."

Your blood boils as you stare daggers into his eyes, hand on the gate as you give him one last look. "I may have been nothing to you, but at least I won't be your scratching post the next time your crashed on the side of the road. At least I don't have to deal with your drunken beatings and your no good 2 inches," you smirk, turning around to open the gate and walk out. Just as you start your way down the road, you make sure to add, "Dick."

You resist the urge to turn around even after you hear him add, "Yeah, that's what you say every time." You can almost hear the sinister smirk on his lips.

It wasn't until you were completely hidden in the cool winter shadows of the night that you finally break down, moseying down the numerous houses to nowhere. You didn't know where you were going, you didn't know what you were doing, and you certainly - painfully so - don't know what you really are going to do without your ex's amenities.

You knew it wouldn't be long before your turning yourself around anyway, open arms with a grand apology and empty promises to never end up in the same argument - the same argument you find yourself in at least a good 40 times for 6 years. You knew you'd turn around, it was just a matter of when and whatever excuse you'd conjure up in your head.

Your head pounds as your tears start to dry, reddened irises and puffy eyelids leaving behind the story you've told too many times. Shivering, you wrap an arm around yourself, the other coming to attempt to massage your temple. "Damn him," you sigh, nearing the end of the road and taking yet another right, absently going around in a deep circle back to him.

The smell of cigarette smoke catches your nose as you go down the main road of the trailer park, and you smirk. It was a small one, but it never seizes to meet your lips at the thought of him, the "Legendary Wrestler" as old as Time itself.

Trying to shrink into the shadows once more, your muscles tense up at the sudden call of your name. "Y/N?" he calls, more of a question in the darkness of the night, unable to see you clearly enough to be certain.

You sigh, shoulders slumping as you peak out, slowly walking to his edge of the road, plastering on a sweet smile as you near him. "Yeah?"

"What are you doing out here? It's cold and it's late, you wanna get sick?"

"I couldn't sleep, you know how noisy the Richardsons can get when they go at it."

"Yeah, they fuck like rabbits, but you ain't the type to walk at night. Try again if you want."

You sigh deeply again, pretending the chill of the air is what makes you wind your arms around tighter. "I figured since no one was out here, there's no problem, right? No weirdos, no pervs, no criminals looking for another victim."

Randy observes your form, closed off and boarded in on itself, then mutters something to himself that you couldn't quite hear correctly. "Come on, you can crash at mine if you'd like. There's not a lot of room, but I'm sure you'll squeeze in nicely. Either way, it's warm, so."

Despite your aching heart and running thoughts, you find yourself giggling full-heartedly, smiling as you nod at him. "That sounds nice." You'd been caught, you know that, but you know Randy won't push - not unless he has to.

Shuffling inside, you instantly go for the heater against the wall, placing your hands before it in attempt to heat your fingers and hands. Randy closes the door behind you, making sure to check the locks before making his way into the small kitchen.

Feeling the tension in the air start to build, you turn away from the heater, silently looking to Randy before settling in on the couch. He places a pot on the coffee maker, exhaling as he chooses his next words carefully. "So, you gonna tell me why you were really out there or no?"

"You gonna tell me why you're up so late? You do have work, don't you?"

"I asked you first," he groans audibly, rolling his eyes at your childish avoidance of the painfully obvious. "You're black eye's blooming, too, in case you hadn't noticed," a hint of a smile perches on his lips.

Panic flashes through you and you dive for the bathroom, then with an unamused look, you scold him; the mirror having shown a face with no abnormalities. "That's not nice."

"It's not nice to lie either."

"It was Keith," you mumble loud enough for him to hear, but quiet enough to almost be a whisper, a secret only the two of you can hear in a crowded room.

"Figures," he spits, anger rising within his being. He's trying to be composed, collected for you, but he knows its a very thin line.

You frown at him, "And, why are you up so late?"

"I have a bad heart, can't work."

"Figures," you repeat venomously.

"I ain't trying to judge you, Kid, I'm not even competin.' Calm down."

You look at him for a brief moment, tears glossing your eyes, bowing it soon after. You hide your face from him, trying to calm the rising tears that threaten to fall and drown you both. You can't do that - you don't want to do that.

"Hey, hey," he whispers, kneeling down in front of your knees. A hand comes up to cup your cheek, the other resting on the bottom of your thigh where your kneecap meets. He tries to shush you, but as soon as his calming eyes claim yours, your body completely shuts down.

"I thought it was the last time," you cry out, clutching his shoulders as he brings you down to the floor with him, rocking you lightly as he cradles you to his body. "He said he'd stop - that he'd get better," you heave.

"He's too far gone," Randy mutters, eyes getting lost on the wall behind you. He knows that feeling, knows what it's like to be "too far gone" - beyond repair. That's him.

"I-" you choke between coughs and wheezes, "-I know, but I - don't want to leave him." You sound like a child, crying so hard until your lungs threaten to give out, but that's what you get when you have history, have a relationship worth half a lifetime in your heart.

"You can do better, Sweetheart. He never deserved you and you know that," he whispers again, soft and smooth, hand brushing your head as you lodge it between the crook of his neck.

Your hand reaches underneath his armpit, fingers tangling in the loose ends of his bleached blonde strands, turning your head to rest your cheek on his shoulder. You allow yourself the ability to calm the racing of your thoughts and heartbeat, settling your hands and thighs around his waist whilst Randy continues to rock you.

His hand draws figures sprawled across your back, the warmth bringing comfort to you and him the same. Before you know it, your body stops shaking, allowing the physical and mental pain to finally be welcomed.

It hurts, everything does. Not only had he beaten you with his cruel words, but he used your body as a punching bag. He treated you as nothing, having been so caught up in anger you hadn't caused, but he wasn't always like this. Keith was once sweet and caring, but with the drugs, loss of jobs left and right, and endless amounts of booze, you quickly were added to the trash with all of the empty remnants.

"Thanks Randy," your voice sounds distant, but still obtains the genuine softness and appreciation.

"I didn't do much, Sweetheart."

"You did," you mutter, squeezing him tighter in a form of a hug.

Randy hasn't felt this much physical touch in a long time. Sure, he had one night stands and strippers, but this felt different - warm, comfortable, caring. He didn't deserve it.

He pats your head again, signaling for you to get up, practically shoving you of of him. Stumbling, you sit back on the couch, a very apparent frown on both of your faces. Standing up straight, he lets out a sigh, scratching his head with his eyes to the floor. He looks like he wants to say something, and you almost beg him to do so, but he just turns around and back to the coffee pot, pouring two cups.

"Daylight's gonna start peeking through in about an hour, you should get some sleep," he mutters pitifully, handing you the red solo cup nonetheless.

Curling up on the couch, you take it gratefully, "Wasn't planning on sleeping much anyway."

Again it seems he wants to speak, nodding to you before smiling uncomfortably. "Well, I'm going to sleep."

"Goodnight," you call out weakly, Randy stopping between the curtains, then continuing on as if he heard nothing at all.

Once you'd given him some time, the tears slide down your face again, dropping quietly on your exposed thighs and pajama shorts. Your eyelids are heavy, bones ache, and you know you want to sleep; you're just too afraid to, too scared to even rationalize all the crazy ways Keith could break in and steal you back to your shit hole you call a home.

Without thinking, you allow yourself to place the cup on the table, feet carrying you to the curtains that keep you locked away like a brick wall. Sighing deeply, you push them open.

Curled on his side, Randy lays prone, wrinkles gone as he's immersed himself into sleep. He looks so peaceful, so young and innocent while he lays so vulnerably. No one ever sees him like that.

"Randy?" you call out quietly, awaiting a response.

When one doesn't come, you try one more time, "Randy?"

Dubbing it safe to move forward when no answer returns, you shuffle towards the other side of his bed. Lightly, you lift the thin sheets for blankets, curling with your back towards him, tucking yourself in to hide away from the cold.

Settling, your breathe hard, waiting for any notion or order to get out, but nothing comes. Closing your eyes, you force your beating heart to calm itself, forcing all the racing thoughts to disappear and permit you one sweet reprieve from reality.

Then the bed rustles, causing your form to harden once more, eyes popping open wide.

Flipping over, his small snores and tiny mumbles get caught in his throat. Somehow, as you tried to calm yourself, you hadn't realized the only noise in the room was just the fan; he was awake for quite some time.

Slowly, he turns to face you, an arm carefully wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer.

Your senses heighten, noticing as your body seemed to mold around his, warmth emanating from him and bringing a sense of comfort you hadn't realized you've been missing.

His other arm comes to wrap around your head underneath your pillow, tucking your head underneath his chin as he cuddles you into him. "No one's gonna hurt you anymore, I promise."

Your body starts to shake at the mention, nodding vigorously in place of the words still stuck in your throat. "I- I know," you almost choke.

"I ain't a good man, Y/N, but I can at least hold up one promise-"

"You are a good man, Randy," you cut him off, tossing over to face him. "Everyone has faults."

"You're too good, Y/N. Too naive and caring."

Looking up and into his eyes, you can see the emotions swirling within them: hurt, longing, care, anger, self-resentment, hate, love - he's lost.

You feel something click within you, finding you are just like him in a way. However, even through all of his demons, Randy's remained strong - or at least he seemed to in the public eye.

You feel you want to say something, anything, just to be closer to this wall of a man, but you don't know how. Don't know what.

"I ain't gonna beg you, Y/N, I know I'm a lonely man, and I damn well deserve to be."

Out of impulse, your lips crash on his, brief and faint. Though it was just a peck, it felt bittersweet on Randy's lips; as if it was a heat of passion. At least he assumed it was.

Pulling back, his eyebrows scrunch in confusion. However, he can feel the walls crumble, his head bowing to rest on your collarbone.

You smirk warmly, hands finding his long strands of hair again, running your fingers through the mess of blonde tresses.

"Don't leave me," it almost comes out inaudible, but you managed to catch it through it's mumbled mess.

Hands on either side of his face, you pull him up to meet your eyes again, "I'm not going anywhere. I promise," you smile, a glittering, genuine smile that makes his heart stop.

"I can't promise you much-"

"You already have, Randy. I just need you...My Rock."

"Damn," he smiles, "I really don't deserve you."

"Everyone deserves love, Randy, even the broken ones."

Placing his lips on yours again, you finally feel like you can breathe. There were no boundaries to worry about crossing, no worries as to where or who you are. He's been here the whole time and you completely overlooked him out of respect of the tatters of a relationship you once had.

You will no longer be a pawn, a nice piece to toy around with and be used. No, you were an equal, Randy's other half. You both had your faults, but that's what made you even stronger together; fixing each other and making each other whole once again.

That's what true love is.

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firebirdsdaughter · 3 years

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BOOK

#Kamen Rider Zero-One #Kamen Rider Zero One #Road59 #Sunagawa Shuya #my precious evil stoic scorpion dad #smells like it's been shrink wrapped XD #now I can go for a walk I'm so glad it finally got here #dhl was being fussy #Binary Retro Rider

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tonguetiedraven · 3 years

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👉 👈 Yukio angst?

Is there any other kind of Yukio story?

tw for some suicidal thoughts.

Also, this entirely in 2nd person pov because I wanted to try it and it will not make sense if you haven't read the manga. (It might still not make sense xD)

———

You're young the first time you realize not everyone can see the shadows and the monsters. A few children talk about the monsters under the bed or in the closet, and it takes a while to realize they're imagining them. The ones they talk about aren't real.

They can't see the things that are really there.

Rin takes you by surprise. The other kids are strange, but he's... He's Rin. He stands up to bullies and makes you believe in things like hope when he smiles. He's everything, brave, funny, bright, and he's your big brother, but...

He doesn't see them either.

It's just another thing that makes you feel like you don't belong, that makes you feel wrong.

But dad sees them. Dad sees them and he runs his hand through your hair. He's warm and his voice is soft.

"You don't have to be afraid," he promises, "I'm gonna show you how to fight them." He does, and for a while you feel smaller than ever because you're terrible. That goes away.

Eventually.

———

You're thirteen when you meet her. She's hiding behind a door, so you can't really see her. There's just the impression of green and blonde, and she's gone. You smile politely at the mother's comments (you always smile politely) and you're grateful when you get to leave. The sun is warm overhead and the air smells like spring. Not too floraly, but a deeper, earthy scent. It brings to mind images of ancient trees and wild places. Areas that are untamed and dangerous.

That's when you meet her properly. She pops up behind you and thrusts a small, lucky clover at you, and she's suddenly as bright as the sun.

(Years will pass and she will still make you think of the sun. Always just a little too bright to look at, but you feel lucky you can stand close enough to feel her warmth.)

Her name is Shiemi, she says, and her smile makes you think there might still be a reason to fight. She knows. She sees them too. If she smiles... Maybe you can as well.

———

He taught you to fight but not to protect, and as Rin leaps at Neuhaus, you think you would have rather had those lessons . You're not weak, but what does strength matter if Rin still gets stabbed? Even smearing the chalk, breaking the summoning circle and freeing the demon amounts to nothing. Rin is bleeding and his eyes aren't as bright as they used to be.

She appears out of nowhere and wraps Rin's wounds in green leaves. The blend of colors, red, green, and blue, makes your breath hitch as you watch her heal. The leaves follow her soft coaxing and the wound closes. Rin inhales, sits up, smiles, at ease in a way you'll never be. Shiemi smiles, happy to have helped as she carefully removes the used leaves. You're the doctor of the group, but your hands have never been as gentle as hers.

You think you might have forgotten how to be gentle.

———

He finds out, somehow, that you're full of doubts. There have always been secrets, but you had a few things you could depend on.

There aren't many left, now. Just a small number, and the list seems to shrink with everyday.

He's always around, teasing, laughing, coaxing. He'd always been the one you thought was the least likely to be a threat. He didn't have a reason to be here and you'd seen that attitude too many times. His type never lasted long.

It's not the first time you've been wrong, but it might be the most jarring.

You keep being wrong, and the voices in your head are no longer your own. You weren't taught how to protect, but... but this time it might just work. If you play every card right, you might save Rin, and a few of the others.

You forget life has never given you a fair hand.

———

You leave them all in a roar of fire as your father screams in your head. He's laughing, which is somehow so much worse than angry, and he's mocking. He wants to watch what's going to happen and he won't stop commenting on Rin.

He wasn't moving. Those weren't normal flames. He's not strong enough to control the real flames of Gehenna.

Think he'll forgive you this time?

You don't answer. Not now. You think he knows the answers anyway.

———

Somehow, he's the only one still there, and he's laughing like he always is. His brown eyes see past your guard and he smiles. "You'll pop a vessel being all serious like that," he teases, and you want to grind your teeth. He should--more than anyone else-- he should know all the stakes. You can't understand how he can see the mutilated clones and still smile. He's abandoned everyone as much as you have. He doesn't have Satan shouting in his head, but he has a dozen demons whispering in his ears. He seems to brush them all off. He betrays his friends and he passes you secret messages from those same friends. There is no telling whose side he actually is on, and you think he likes it that way.

You wonder if you will ever understand Renzou

———

He came for you, entirely different, like every fear you've secretly harbored in your heart. He's larger than life in some ways, demonic and wild.

But then, Rin's always been larger than life. He's always been between everything that scares you, and everything you want to be.

He cries when he sees you and it isn't fair that life let's him cry. It's never been as kind as that to you.

You've spent your life seeing these no one else saw, and knowing secrets no one else could know. You've been trained to fight, and you've never been as much of a healer as you wanted to be. You can't smile in the darkness and you can't laugh against mounting odds.

But you've always done what needed to be done, so you look into blue eyes ringed with fire and decide it's time to finally protect him. The others are with him, because Rin has always been better at friends, and he doesn't understand.

Until he does.

You're tired of being weak, and you're tired of the voices in your head and the shadows in the dark. You're tired of the failures, and you're tired of always fighting. It'll be a relief, you think, such a relief to finally die.

———

When you were young and scared, Rin's smile always made you believe in things like hope. His smile would light up his entire face and the shadows didn't seem so large.

As you grab your brother's arm, daring to hope, daring to imagine he's right, you think it might not have been the smile. It might just be Rin.

#ao no exorcist #blue exorsict #yukio okumura #aoex #my aoex prompt #my tumblr fics #my asks

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

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Cinderella AU time again at last, baby!! Let’s do this!

Florence’s “Christmas Witch” is inspired by Italy’s Le Befana, who like Santa Claus/Father Christmas and his many variations serves as a holiday gift-giver to young children. Given that in this universe, Florence is more favorable toward magic than its rival nation Royaume, I figured them having a similar tradition was appropriate.

The background depicted in this picture is based on this window from a guest apartment in the Chateau de Chambord in France, though of course this is the outside of such a window, rather than the inside. Damn it, do I hate backgrounds with a burning passion. XD;;

In my headcanon, Orion suffers from anxiety. Anxiety disorders aren’t uncommon among children who were raised in orphanages, and a common visual cue for anxiety is clasping one’s hands in front of them, which Orion does constantly in the game Hogwarts Mystery. Plus two types of therapy prescribed for dealing with anxiety are meditation and regular physical activity (like Quidditch! :D). For safety, though, I also want to put in a trigger warning for this part -- be advised that there will be some discussion of PTSD and war-related trauma, around the middle of this.

Previous part is here -- full tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you enjoy!

x~x~x~x

The morning after Royaume’s Winter Festival, Skye was surprised to find Orion in Florence’s palace library. Admittedly he was balancing on one foot with one leg crossed over the other on the step near the top of a tall ladder while reading, which was very typical of Orion -- but the book was a very thick volume on the weaving of various fabrics, and he was devouring it with intense interest while vaguely humming a tune under his breath that Skye didn’t recognize.

“Oh willow, willow, willow...willow...”

Skye cleared her throat to try to get the Prince’s attention. “Hey...Orion?”

Orion, however, was too focused on what he was reading. It took Skye striding over, stating his name twice more, and finally giving the ladder a light smack to get his attention.

“Orion! Mind coming back down to Earth for a minute?” she said, her voice oddly tense. “I need to talk to you.”

Orion stopped humming and looked up from the book at last, his expression rather pleasant.

“Skye...you’ve returned from the front.”

Skye frowned. “Yeah...Dad’s nearly recovered from his injuries. Penny Haywood wanted to thank you for the herbs you picked up.”

Orion inclined his head slightly. “I’m glad to hear your father’s condition has improved.”

Skye nodded, looking faintly guilty.

“...Orion...I’m sorry about what I said the other day,” she said uncomfortably. “I was just so worried about Dad and his troops, and you being all wrapped up in this girl who works for the enemy...it just...it rattled me, I guess.”

“Florence and Royaume should not be enemies for all time,” said Orion patiently. “If there is to be peace, the mistakes both sides have made in the midst of the War will have to be forgiven.”

“I know,” muttered Skye. “And...well, I know how you feel about the War -- about war and fighting in general. It just feels like what you’re doing is so slow, and people are hurting, and...”

She hung her head.

“I know it’s no excuse, for what I said, but...I am really sorry.”

Orion’s black eyes softened. “It’s already forgiven and forgotten, my friend.”

Skye looked very relieved. Her face burst into a smile.

“...Thanks, Orion. I gotta admit, I...kind of want to meet this ‘Lady Cromwell’ now, after everything you told McNully and me about her. She sounds a bit too good to be true, but...well, I never really thought I’d ever hear of a Royaumanian defending magic...especially one of their courtiers.”

Closing the book in his hands with a quiet snap, Orion lowered the leg he had bent beside the one he was balancing on.

“Fortunately I think you’ll have the chance to do so very soon,” he said with a smile. “Last night was an unquestionable success.”

He leapt down the rungs of the ladder with alternating feet, all the way back down to the floor with a light thump.

“I went to the Winter Festival and met the Prince of Royaume himself.”

Skye gave a start. “You what?”

Orion was beaming from ear to ear. “It was all thanks to Carewyn, appropriately enough. She was the one who arranged it so that he could sneak out of the palace disguised as a peasant and attend the Winter Festival, even with the King and Queen keeping him so strictly contained. Prince Henri himself even said as much, that it was all Carewyn’s doing. Imagine...because of her, the two princes of rival nations were able to meet on completely neutral ground as equals. And now that we’ve been introduced and I have a better fix on Prince Henri’s character, I have a great opportunity to open negotiations in full.”

Skye looked rather impressed, even as her face twitched with discomfort.

“That’s...smashing, Orion,” she granted halfheartedly.

Orion raised his eyebrows curiously. “I would say so...but your aura doesn’t seem to agree with your words.”

With a deepening, guilty frown, Skye reached into the hanging pocket attached to her faded blue skirt and took out a sealed letter, which she handed to Orion.

“The King asked me to bring this back for you,” she said lowly, as Orion opened it and began to read. “He’s requested you and McNully to join him at the front.”

Orion’s face had lost all of its pleasantry, leaving it very stony and unreadable, as his black eyes scanned the letter once, twice, three times.

“McNully’s gone to get the coach ready,” said Skye lowly. “He said that he’d meet us just inside the castle gate.”

The ride from the Florentine royal palace to the battlefield at the northern-most border of Royaume and Florence was a stressful one. Once anyone exited the capitol’s walls, the War was immediately much more visible, since most of the War was fought on Florentine soil. Plus many of those magicians who specialized in casting spells were encouraged to settle closer to the wealthier hubs of the country, so that they could cast temporary illusions to obscure certain buildings whenever the opposing army got too close. That was how people such as Florence’s court magician, Severus Snape, had attained such a respectable status.

Orion spent the entire coach ride sitting with his legs crossed, his hands clasped tightly in his lap, and his eyes closed so he could meditate. Despite his eyes being closed, however, when they arrived at their destination, he could hear the shrieks of wheels on old wagons, the whinnying of unsettled horses, and suppressed moans of pain, and he could smell the burnt wood, gunpowder, and indescribable smell that could only be labeled as “death.” Even just the sounds and smells brought all the memories flooding back -- his and his mother’s house set ablaze...the rearing horses with Royaume blue and red on their saddles...the deafening explosions and the gray ash that rained from the sky...his mother’s light-less eyes and his own labored breathing and clutching, shaking hands...

Orion had never been blind to how run-down much of his country was, but its problems only became more apparent the closer one got to the border, and especially to the war front. Every building was brand-new and cheaply built, for they no doubt had been built and rebuilt several times over and their occupants didn’t have the funds to build it back as well as before. And then once one approached the army camp itself, there were just about no buildings or fortresses at all, since it was so hard to keep them from being demolished. Instead all the Florentines really had were tents that wouldn’t stand up to most any elements. In the freezing cold of winter, many had been crowded under groves of trees, in a vain attempt to try to protect them from the snow that had buried their neighbors, and there were large bonfires set up everywhere where the soldiers gathered, just to warm their bundled hands and feet. One small fire featured a cooking pot and some sort of foul-smelling soup -- it took Orion a moment to realize the smell was burning leather.

It was tragic to think of how many men back in the Florentine capitol like Lord Malfoy had become very rich because of the increased danger of shipping goods through war zones, while the men who actually had to stay in that war zone had to cook their own boots and eat them for sustenance.

Orion did not open his eyes even when the carriage came to a stop. It was proving harder to find his center of balance when the smell of gunpowder outside made the memory of terrified screams and crackling wood pound against his eardrums.

Inhale. Exhale. Let go. Find your center. Balance.

He felt someone lightly touch the top of his clasped hands. When he opened his eyes, he saw that it was Skye.

“...We’re here,” she mumbled. Clearly she knew she was stating the obvious, but didn’t know what else to say.

Orion looked from her to McNully sitting next to her, his eyes very dark even though his face was rather unreadable. McNully looked very grim as he slowly opened the door to the coach. As soon as he did so, someone outside announced very loudly,

“Presenting his Highness, Crown Prince Cosimo Amari VII, heir to the throne of Florence!”

With a swallow, Orion slid his legs down to the floor and, unclasping his hands at last, he hoisted himself up as best he could, took hold of the door frame, and climbed out of the coach. He held his head up high and didn’t shrink, but his eyes were rippling turbulently like oil under candlelight as they surveyed the barren landscape.

Men by the dozens were being carried away on stretchers toward a large off-white medical tent -- even more were being carried away from it or, worse, not even coming close to it at all, for it was already too late. They were too badly injured for Penny Haywood’s potions to save -- for as powerful as magic could be, life and death were inevitable things. The gray-haired flower witch who’d given Orion the charm around his neck had told him so, the Prince recalled, as his hand absently came up to trail over the circular pendant. He’d asked her if she could stop someone from dying, and the sweet grandmotherly woman had looked upon him with an incredibly sad, pitying look.

“Death isn’t something anyone can stop, I’m afraid. One can put it off, certainly...I’ve been able to give people some extra time with my potions, but only by putting in a lot of my own time and energy. And even after putting in that time and energy, there are still plenty of people who I couldn’t work fast enough to help. That’s one of magic’s Chief Principles -- potions take time, but their effects last longer.”

The Prince of Florence tried to bring the cooling, calming sensation that had accompanied the charm around his neck when the woman had first given it to him back to his mind, as the smell of death that hovered over the camp made his heart chill and his stomach churn.

Orion could sense Skye climbing out to stand beside him, and not long after, McNully had lowered himself into the wheeled chair the footman detached from the boot of the coach. By the time McNully and Skye had joined him on the ground, a royal entourage had approached them, introduced by the captain who’d announced Orion’s arrival --

“Presenting his Majesty, Cosimo Amari V, Master and Commander of the Florentine Army, Lord of the Southeastern Sea, King of Florence!”

An older man about Orion’s height with a short mane of graying dark hair and just as strong of a jaw strode forward. Although he greatly resembled Orion visually, however, their physical attitudes couldn’t be any more different: as relaxed and modest as Orion was, the King of Florence appeared traditional and proud. They did, however, both appear quite detached, in their own way -- Orion because he didn’t want to be on the battlefield at all, and the King because he seemed to not be entirely sure how to address his adult son. But frankly, considering that Orion had been snatched out of poverty and made Crown Prince just to replace his older half-brother, Cosimo VI, after he was assassinated by the Royaumanians earlier that year, that wasn’t completely surprising.

“Cosimo,” the King greeted him formally. “Good that you’re here.”

Orion didn’t respond, his face close to impossible to read as he clasped his hands in front of him again.

The King’s emerald green eyes scanned his son’s face briefly before he brought up a hand to take hold of his shoulder and lead him further into camp.

“Come -- we have much to discuss...”

Skye and McNully followed Orion and his father to the largest and brightest white of the tents, pushing the flap with the official Florentine gold-and-green-flower emblem aside to walk inside and gather around a large table. There was a large map laid out on it with many dark green and blood red miniatures and model canons scattered across the surface. Skye’s father, General Ethan Parkin, was also present -- he had to sit in a chair rather than stand like almost everyone else due to him missing a leg and being forced to lean on a crutch, but he sat up very straight with boastful levels of pride. Once he, his generals, and the Prince were all gathered around the table, the King immediately set about discussing McNully’s newest military strategy, which would involve splitting the army in half so as to covertly attack Royaume’s forces from two directions, so as to not only better pinpoint where their canons were currently positioned and avoid them, but also to prevent them from retreating.

It soon became apparent to everyone in the King’s tent, however, that Orion was not in the mood to discuss any of this. He stayed quiet for the majority of the meeting, clasping his hands in front of him, and his eyes remained on the far edge of the map on the table, far away from the battlefield. In his mind, he tried to find his center, even though the sounds of the anxiously whinnying horses outside brought back the memory of the ones that had nearly stampeded him so many years ago, when his part of town was set ablaze.

Find your center. Find balance. Find peace.

Carewyn’s soft, content face as she sang under the willow tree beside the Royaumanian palace moat rippled over his mind, and he felt his heart rate slow.

“Oh willow, willow, willow...shall be my garland...”

Orion tried to stay there on that lake bank in his mind as the King discussed how essential it’d be to prevent any Royaumanians from getting in or out of their camp during their siege -- for, as General Parkin pointed out, if any help arrived, then it would prevent the Florentine Army from wiping out their enemy and ending the War. McNully himself looked rather unsettled by the thought of “wiping out” the enemy and was quick to say he’d only intended for the Royaumanians to be fenced in, like in a game of chess, but the King of Florence clearly didn’t think it was enough.

“This newest batch of drafted soldiers are our last resort. Unless we wish to expand the draft to take all those over the age of 18, regardless of health or status, to take their place, we must bring this War to an end, once and for all. And to do that, our enemy must be decisively crushed.”

He looked up at Orion.

“That is why, son, I’ll need you to take command of the left flank of the army.”

“What?” said Skye and McNully, both taken aback and horrified.

“Your Majesty,” McNully said very quickly and firmly, “I-I fully intended that General Parkin would -- ”

“Believe me, lad, I’d normally be chomping at the bit to do it myself,” said General Parkin with a rather sour expression. “But considering that I can’t even properly stand yet, his Majesty decided it might be a good idea for me to...sit this one out.”

“Prince Cosimo will need to know our army as well as I do,” said the King firmly. “Even when we bring this War to an end, he’ll need to be able to lead them in battle, in order to protect our kingdom. And from what I understand, Cosimo, you’ve been gathering intelligence in Royaume itself for a month now without arousing any suspicion...I believe your flair for stealth would be perfectly suited to the task at hand.”

“I’m afraid I must disagree,” said Orion in a very quiet voice.

The King halted. Orion had looked up at his father out the side of his black eye when he’d first addressed him, and although his expression had been very restrained, his eyes had gone very dark. His hands clasped a bit tighter as he faced the rest of the King’s military officers.

“This meeting is adjourned. Please excuse me.”

He turned on his heel and made as if to leave. The King, however, roughly grabbed his shoulder.

“It most certainly is not,” he said, his green eyes full of both disbelief and urgency. “Cosimo, this is not up for debate -- I require you here, to lead the men.”

Orion didn’t turn around. “...You require my aid, to lead our men in this battle?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” said Orion levelly. “Then should I choose not to cooperate, you will not be able to act on this strategy at all.”

All of the King’s officers looked appalled as Orion left the tent. The King’s eyes grew very wide, flickering with desperation as well as some righteous anger, as he chased after him, stepping in front of Orion to prevent him from leaving.

“Cosimo, this is our chance to end the War once and for all! To bring peace to Florence, to right all of the wrongs the Royaumanians have done...”

“Can one right any wrongs by committing more wrongs of their own?” murmured Orion.

“War is not that black and white, my son,” said the King sharply. The surrounding soldiers were starting to take notice. “Sometimes the ends must justify the means -- it’s something all young kings must learn, and I would prefer you learn it before I’m gone, rather than after making a big mistake.”

Skye and McNully had rushed out to join Orion.

“All people make mistakes,” Orion said softly. He tried to leave for a third time, but the King refused to let him pass.

“But you are the Crown Prince of Florence!” said the King. He was clearly getting frustrated now. “Therefore your mistakes are much more consequential -- when you make mistakes, the people you cherish, that you want most desperately to protect, pay the price!”

His father’s rising volume wasn’t helping Orion’s mood. His anxiety had already been spiking in the tent, but it was only getting harder for him to focus on his breathing with the King continuing to press the issue and the unpleasant, sickening smells and sounds of the battlefield surrounding him.

“Think of your friends, Cosimo,” said the King in a strained voice, “your home, your subjects...”

His friends... Skye’s and McNully’s faces rippled over Orion’s mind, before being joined by KC’s, Badeea’s, the Weasleys’, and Andre’s at the Festival...Carewyn’s...Carewyn rushing up to him at the palace gate -- sighing tiredly and handing him her uncomfortable white heels -- dancing in spirals around him, her red lips turned up in a smile and her ginger hair flying free --

Another battalion was coming through, with stretchers and horses loaded up with wounded soldiers -- the smell of death was suffocating --

“Think of your mother, Cosimo,” said the King. “Could you bear it if any other little boys lost their mothers, the way you did?”

“Don’t talk about -- !” gasped Skye, looking righteously furious, but McNully quickly grabbed her arm to urge her to be quiet.

Skye’s objection wouldn’t have helped, though. The mention of Orion’s mother, combined with the smell of fire and the sound of horses, brought the images flooding back -- his mother’s light-less eyes -- his own gasping for breath --

Orion closed his eyes, trying to find his center, even as his clasped hands started to sweat.

Return to Carewyn -- return to the lake shore, to her voice --

Carewyn’s brother was on the battlefield, fighting for Royaume -- if Orion charged into battle, could he not end up bringing about her brother’s death? Could he bear seeing Carewyn’s heart broken, upon learning that the only family she had who truly understood and loved her was dead? Could he bear the thought of all that blood being on his hands...the blood of his soldiers and Andre’s -- the blood of Carewyn’s brother -- ?

“This is your responsibility, Cosimo,” said the King, as he seized Orion’s shoulder and squeezed it. “You must lead our men into battle -- ”

SMACK.

To everyone’s complete and utter shock, Orion had actually ripped out of the King’s grip, backhanding his hand away with force.

The King flinched back, looking stricken. Orion stared at his father, his black eyes very wide and devoid of both consciousness and its usual composure. There was no rage or violence in his posture, but his face was very white and his hand -- still hovering in mid-air -- was trembling slightly.

“Forgive me,” he said at once, his voice very soft and unusually fragile. “Just...please, don’t touch me.”

He strode past his father, right over to the coach he’d arrived in. Instead of climbing inside, however, he immediately yanked one of the black horses free from its restraints and climbed up onto its back.

“Cosimo!” the King cried, but it was no use. Orion had already sharply flicked the reins and rode off into the distance with speed.

Orion didn’t stop riding until he’d once again reached the palace gate of Royaume. He ended up tossing off his well-tailored olive green doublet on the way, so as to leave his more peasant-like white undershirt behind. His hair also came loose of its ponytail in transit and Orion didn’t care in the least to try to restrain it again. His heart was pounding so fast and his blood was so spiked that all he could focus on was finding peace -- and in that moment, peace was a person. He just needed to hear Carewyn’s voice...needed to see her face...

Orion tied his horse up not far from the palace and hopped the castle wall. He knew Carewyn wouldn’t be expecting him -- before the Winter Festival, they’d said they’d meet up on the 9th, which was coincidentally after Florence’s Christmas Witch festivities. Even so, and even though Orion knew Carewyn would worry about him getting in trouble, he couldn’t think of the risk to himself. His heart was just too clenched with anxiety for him to place his focus on anything other than reaching her -- even though once he reached the castle, the tension that squeezed every nerve in his body in a vice grip only increased with the knowledge that he had no way to figure out where in the castle she’d be or how to get her attention. As fate would have it, however, as Orion paced through the gardens, clasping his own sweating hands, a familiar tune rippled over the air.

“The sweetest sounds I’ll ever hear are still inside my head...

The kindest words I’ll ever know are waiting to be said...”

The song itself was one even Orion knew -- it was a rather well-known love song in both Florence and Royaume, and one of his mother’s favorite songs when she was alive. But more importantly, the voice singing it was the wonderfully emotional, deep-as-the-sea tone he’d so needed to hear. Orion’s heart gave something like a spasm of relief as he swept around the perimeter of the palace, staying low behind the hedges, until he spotted an open window in a nearby tower where the voice was coming from. When Orion reached the tower in question, he couldn’t stop himself from collapsing against the wall back-first, closing his eyes, so he could just focus on her voice and let it wash over him.

He was suddenly so short on time. The King was so desperate to end the War that he was now open to slaughtering the enemy, if it served that goal. And as confident as the King was that the plan McNully had suggested would put an end to the Royaumanian army for good, Orion himself doubted it would or even could. The cycle of vengeance could only continue ad infinitum until either everything was destroyed or one royal decided to be the better person and stop the fighting. But how could Orion hope to pursue the diplomacy he’d wanted, once the King had done something so ruthless? How could he hope to appeal to Prince Henri or his parents, after such a severe, fresh wound? And Carewyn...how could he face her again, if her beloved brother died because of his own father’s orders?

He needed time. He needed peace. He needed...

“...is waiting somewhere...somewhere for me...”

Breathe. Find your center. Inhale. Exhale.

Orion barely knew what made him do it, but he knew he had to get Carewyn’s attention somehow. So he squeezed his hands, opened his mouth, took a deep breath, and started to sing the words in return.

“The sweetest sounds I’ll ever hear are still inside my head...”

Carewyn had been cleaning one of the guest suites when she suddenly heard her own song echoed back to her from outside the window. She straightened up abruptly.

Who...who is...?

The voice was male and oddly wispy -- the singer was certainly not trained or very comfortable singing, but he still sounded so earnest...almost desperate.

“The kindest words I’ll ever know are waiting to be said...

The most entrancing sight of all is yet for me to see,

And the dearest love in all the world is waiting somewhere for me --

Is waiting somewhere...somewhere for me...”

Carewyn leaned her broom up against the wall and looked out the window. When she looked down, she caught sight of a familiar mane of dark hair and slightly-too-clean white shirt.

“Orion?”

She recoiled from the window at once, her hands flying to her messy ginger ponytail as she looked over her burnt orange and beige servant’s dress. She was in no state for him to see her like this --

She looked into the mirror hanging up on the closest wall and swallowed.

Carewyn knew she was being foolish -- Orion was going to find out sooner or later that she was nothing but a servant...but...

She’d liked being a lady, for him. She’d liked being someone he could respect. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him with the truth of who she was, really, it was more...her being ashamed of herself. She hadn’t had a choice of whether or not Andre or KC or even the Weasleys knew that she was the child of Charles Cromwell’s disowned youngest daughter and a dead-beat merchant with no dowry or prospects. But Orion hadn’t known her. She’d been able to be who she wished she could be, if just for a moment, when they first met...and in every moment after, she found herself that bit more reluctant to put that mask away.

Carewyn wanted to be a brave, noble, graceful, sophisticated lady for Orion. She wanted to be someone he could admire, instead of the insignificant, pathetic, lying fake who’d sold her and her brother’s souls and futures away forever, just to try to save his life. A girl who, truthfully, was no better than her terrible family -- who had brought every bit of unhappiness she’d ever experienced on herself...

Orion started the song again down below, in an attempt to get Carewyn’s attention -- Carewyn, up above, quickly fashioned her hair into a pretty braid in front of the mirror and sang under him as an echo, as if wanting to reassure him that she could hear him.

“The sweetest sounds (the sweetest sounds)

I’ll ever hear (I’ll ever hear)

Are still inside my head --

The kindest words (the kindest words)

I’ll ever know (I’ll ever know)

Are waiting to be said --

The most (the most) entrancing (entrancing) sight of all (sight of all)

Is yet for me to see,

And the dearest love in all the world...

Is waiting somewhere for me... (Waiting somewhere...)

Is waiting somewhere...

Somewhere for...me...”

Once she was finished with her braid, Carewyn quickly dusted herself off and dashed over to the window.

“Orion!” she whispered only as loudly as she dared.

Orion opened his eyes, turning around and looking up at Carewyn with a very soft smile adorning his lips.

“Beautiful as ever, my lady,” he complimented her, inclining his shoulders in a short bow. His hands were still clasped in front of him. “Like the sweet Nightingale that sang for the Emperor.”

Carewyn took several quick glances around, visibly worried. “Orion, what are you doing here?”

Orion raised his eyebrows. “Standing, at present. Though I was singing just a moment ago -- or at least trying to. My voice cannot compete with yours, I’m afraid.”

Carewyn couldn’t completely keep the smile off her face, even despite the concern she felt. Her smile, however small, was like a warm, soothing hand on Orion’s heart.

“You’re lucky that no one else heard you!” Carewyn hissed down with as much reproach as she could manage.

Orion smiled wryly. “Most assuredly. I’m certain that Madam Ali and the Weasley brothers would hardly enjoy my ‘accompaniment’ as well as they do yours.”

The sweat on his hands had gone cold, making Orion actually shiver a bit as he found his body temperature and heart rate finally starting to calm. His smile flickered slightly on his face, creating a much more pensive and murky expression.

“...Will you take a ride with me, Carewyn?” said Orion, very abruptly.

Carewyn blinked. “What?”

Orion squeezed his own hands together, but tried to keep his voice level and his shoulders straight.

“I realize we’ve made no plans today, and that you are enamored of the work you do at court...but you so enjoy riding your horse, and we’ve not yet taken a ride together, out into the country. There are such beautiful valleys east of here -- perfect for stargazing, I should think, once the sun sets.”

Carewyn’s eyes drifted away, back into the guest suite she was cleaning. The windows weren’t washed yet, and she still had to bring the dirty sheets down to the laundry so she could have them clean in time for tomorrow morning...

Sensing Carewyn’s discomfort, Orion said in an oddly insistent voice, “I’ll wait for you, should you say yes. Whatever you must do, I’ll wait until you are finished.”

Carewyn’s gaze snapped back down to Orion in surprise.

She’d never heard him sound like that before. As mysterious and unreadable as his face was, she could still sense that something was off. Perhaps it was how his black eyes searched her face -- or perhaps it was the tenseness in his clasped hands.

Carewyn knew she was in no state to go riding with Orion in her dusty servant’s uniform, especially when she still had work to do...but truly, she didn’t have to wash the windows today, after having already done them yesterday...and she could always fetch the sheets early the next morning before coming up to the guest suite to change them out.

If something is wrong, I can’t leave Orion to deal with it alone, she thought to herself.

Even if she was only a fake and a liar, Carewyn wanted to be there for him. He deserved to have someone there for him...even if it was just her.

And so with a swallow, she looked back down at Orion with a very solemn, but gentle look.

“...I’ll need to change into something warmer and fetch my horse...but I’ll be down in thirty minutes. Can you meet me outside the gate?”

Orion’s heart flooded with relief that he couldn’t completely keep off of his face.

“I’ll be waiting, my lady.”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #cinderella au #my art #my writing #carewyn cromwell #orion amari #skye parkin #murphy mcnully #katriona cassiopeia #andre egwu #badeea ali #charlie weasley #bill weasley #ethan parkin #this part got so long I had to split it in half!!#and also draw a new drawing for it #god I hate backgrounds #but yeah anyway the part following this one should be out tomorrow hopefully since the sketches are already done #my poor bb orion ;~;#and also my poor bb carewyn too to a lesser extent #this'll be better explained in later parts but orion is the bastard son of the king and his lover a peasant woman #as you might notice orion was named after his father -- just like the king's first son and orion's elder half-brother the first prince was #that signifies that orion's mother thought of orion as an heir to the throne even though he was still a bastard #(I'm sure all the kids who knew orion growing up must've been perfectly respectful about this one kid being named like a prince >> )#damn this thing is turning into a jukebox musical over here XD;#I'm sorry I just couldn't resist 'the sweetest sounds' just gives me such joy

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pressedinthepages · 4 years

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Not Frustrated Anymore Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Geralt x Reader Word Count: 2758 Rating: E ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24191263 a/n: OK SO I TOTALLY MEANT FOR THIS TO JUST BE A LITTLE DRABBLE AND IT REALLY GOT AWAY FROM ME I used smut prompt #24 for this one, send me more so I can probably spend way too much time on them XD Warnings: filthy smut, masturbation, fingering, voyeurism, oral sex, penetrative sex “I can make you cum harder than that.” “Try me.” The breeze from the open window cooled your burning skin as you lay bare on the bed, relentlessly thrusting your fingers in your cunt. You’d been traveling with Geralt for a short while now as a healer, thus spending most nights camping under the stars. Because of this, and the fact that you can’t stop thinking about the swell of the muscles in his arms or the unyielding fire in the amber of his eyes or the low timber of his voice worn to gravel through the years or any of the other impossibly tempting qualities the damn Witcher possesses, you’ve been carrying an ache for far too long with no means to quell it. So, when you finally arrived in the small town of Ellander and saw they boasted a sizeable inn, you rushed to the innkeeper and requested two rooms, handing over the extra coin needed. You would typically just share a room with Geralt, but you desperately needed some privacy. After sharing a small dinner, Geralt mentioned he wanted to walk around the town to look for contracts, for which you silently thanked the gods. As soon as he walked out of the tavern, you hastily made your way back to your room, barely pulling the door closed behind you as you shucked off the now smothering layers of clothing. Now, curling your fingers in a “come-hither” motion, you could feel the telltale burn of your impending pleasure at the bottom of your spine. You let out a low, drawn-out groan, like the salt of the sea crashing against the side of cliffs too high to crest. You worked yourself faster, pressing your palm against your clit as the tips of your fingers pumped in and out. You closed your eyes and found those honey-whiskey eyes, the raw strength, the sound of him groaning, and the fire behind your spine suddenly burst to life, spreading through your body and mind as you unconsciously let Geralt’s name roll from your tongue. Coaxing yourself down from your high, you took a few deep breaths and realized that though you had taken your pleasure, you were left unsatisfied. You let out a frustrated huff and let the chill from the wind lick your skin, offering little respite from the fire still flickering under your spine. Suddenly, the door to your room is thrown open, only to be slammed shut just as quickly. Having left the tavern and realizing that he had left his pouch in the room he was staying in, he swiftly turned around and headed back. As he passed your room to get to his own, he caught a whiff of a scent that had been following him for days, amplified and drawing him to the source. Geralt had smelled your arousal several times during their travels, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to provide you the relief you craved. He would never want to offend you or push you to do something that made you uncomfortable, especially since there were so few people anymore who looked at him without malice or fear. So, he did as he does best, pushing his feelings down and pretending they don’t exist. But, when he hears your accelerated heartbeat and quiet breathy moans, Geralt forgets about his pouch and lets himself lean against the wall by your door and take a long drag of the scent that had been plaguing his rational thoughts relentlessly. He felt dirty, listening to your most intimate, primal desires. He grows almost painfully hard and closes his eyes as he imagines his mouth on your cunt, tasting the source of your arousal and hearing you gasp and writhe beneath him. Geralt had been unwittingly palming his erection through his trousers when he heard you breathily gasp his name, at which his eyes shot open in disbelief. Once his mind caught up with his cock, he realized that you had found your pleasure with his name on your tongue, and he found himself aching to hear it again. However, he only heard a frustrated huff and the sound of your head flopping back on the pillow. Taking a deep breath, he noticed that your need had not been sated. Before he could think any better, he threw the door open and shut it back quickly, turning to face you. “Geralt,” you exclaimed, pulling one of the blankets to cover yourself, “what are you doing?” “I heard you say my name” he said simply, letting the implications of how he had heard it hang in the air. You paled, shrinking in on yourself and wishing that you could just turn into a puddle so that you would not have to deal with the mortification of being caught touching yourself by the very object of your desires. “I can make you cum harder than that.” You blinked and glanced back at him to confirm that you had heard him correctly. Geralt’s level expression bored into you, and you could tell that he was holding himself back so as not to push too far. In a moment of great courage, you proposed an offer: “Try me.” Geralt strode to the side of the bed and crouched to your level. You avoided the bright embers of his eyes, but he gently grasped your chin and brought your eyes to him. He pulled you to him, grazing his lips against yours in a chaste movement that was more of a question. When he pulled back, he saw the epiphany behind your eyes, followed quickly by a dark hunger, and felt your hands grab the soft fabric of his undershirt to roughly pull him back to you. Your lips crashed together like a ship tearing through stormy waters, all tongue and teeth and yearning. You rolled back, pulling him onto the bed where he settled above you, never breaking your embrace. You caught his bottom lip between your teeth, drawing from him a low groan that goes straight to your core, stoking the fire back to roaring life. Geralt pulled back and looked into your eyes, the need to confirm your want for this to continue at the forefront of his mind. You gently placed a hand on the side of his face and let out a sigh when he leans into your touch as though he has never felt such a caring touch. He rested his forehead against yours, and you could feel his thumb gently stroking your side as he breathily whispered your name. “I don’t wish to take any liberties with you, are you sure that this-” “Take them” you responded, threading your fingers through his hair and gently tugging, earning another sound from deep within Geralt’s chest. You tugged him back down and shifted, slipping your knee up to brush against his hard length as you kissed him again. He tasted of herbs and of frost, of the endless night sky looming overhead. It was addicting, and you longed to never live another moment without his lips on yours. And yet, as he moved away from your mouth and peppered kisses along your jaw and down your neck, you decided that you could be content as long as Geralt was within reach to touch and feel. He found a sensitive spot just under your ear and began suckling a mark into the skin there, his stubble scratching an itch that you didn’t know that you had. As he continued, you ran your hands down his broad chest, slipping the buttons of his shirt open as you made your way ever lower. You pushed your hands under the fabric, Geralt breaking his ministrations to lift the offending article over his head and cast it aside. He then swiftly dipped his head lower to your breasts where his mouth latched onto one of your nipples, drawing a sharp gasp from you as you arched further into his touch. His hand pulled the blanket off of you before kneading your other breast, occasionally tugging at the center, sending jets of fuel to the ever-growing fire inside of you. He moved lower and lower, settling himself between your thighs and leveling himself at your cunt. He wrapped his arms around your hips and brought his head forward, slowly licking from your entrance up to the bundle of nerves, giving an additional suckle when he gets there. Your hands flew to tangle in his hair, and he took his time in drinking you in. Your taste was so much sweeter than Geralt could have ever imagined, and he believed that he could happily be sustained on your slick alone for the rest of his life. You let out a long keen as he pushed one of his fingers inside of you, his mouth never relenting. He strengthened his grip on your hips as you tried to thrust further towards him, and added another finger. As you ran your fingers through his hair and gave a tug, Geralt moaned against your clit, forcing a new wave of arousal to dress his fingers. He could feel your walls fluttering and buzzing and your knees buckling around his waist, so all in one motion, he added a third curled finger, flattened his tongue against your clit, and let out a long moan. You let out a tumble of words, pleading and cursing and his name and it doesn’t make sense but he understands. His eyes lock with yours and the combination of all of the different sensations causes a lightning strike to your core, spreading the fire around you in euphoric bliss. The sound that is pulled from you is low and grating, and your nails raked across his scalp, trying to pull him impossibly closer. Geralt continued working you through your high, gently easing you back to him until the pleasure turned prickly and he pulled away, placing a kiss to the inside of your thigh. He slinked back up the bed to face you and you yanked him into a deep kiss, feeling the bulge in his trousers press against the same spot he left that last chaste kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, the sharp tang a welcome addition to his taste on your tongue. You ran your hands down his back, fingers ghosting over the scars and burns and marks left by touch so different than what you’re offering now. Your hands slide to the front of his hips, and you palmed his erection hungrily, earning a primal growl that rumbles through you like rocks on a riverbed. You fumbled with the buttons, and Geralt reached down to take them from you, so you busied yourself with smoothing your hands across his front, slowly raking your fingers through the hair on his chest. As he freed himself, you reached to push his trousers fully off, and he stood to remove them. You found yourself in awe, seeing the raw power that his body possessed but knowing that he would never use that to harm you. He climbed back onto the bed, situating himself over you, but you hooked your leg around his waist and twisted, pulling him underneath you so that you straddled his legs. Geralt ran his hands up your thighs, giving your ass a squeeze as you leaned down, trying to fit every part of your bodies together. His hands settle on your waist and pull you forward, dragging your still-sensitive cunt along his thigh. You gasped a curse into his mouth and he chuckled, rocking your hips slowly up and down his legs. You’re dripping on him, and you started to meet his thrusts as the smoldering fire was stoked once more. You reach between your bodies and find him, cock flushed and weeping precome at the first glance of your fingers. You sat yourself up, bracing yourself on Geralt’s shoulders. As you lifted your hips above him, he took his cock in his hand and aligned himself at your entrance. When you felt the tip of him against your folds, you gently rocked, coating him in your slick and causing Geralt to hiss in pleasure. You slowly sank onto him, taking him in one motion. As you felt your hips meet his, your head fell back and the sound you let out was one of pure satisfaction, like the settling of snow or a thunderstorm after a drought. Geralt held himself still, fingers digging into your hips with the effort. You hoped there would be bruises in the morning to match your other love mark, claiming you as his own. This thought brought your eyes back to him, and you clenched your walls around him. “Fuck” Geralt rasped, gritting his teeth in a snarl full of hunger and lust. You began to roll your hips on him, spearing his cock deeper with every thrust. He pulled himself up and wrapped his arms around your waist, setting a breathtaking pace. He fucks into you hard, dragging himself through your tight, wet walls, relentless in his quest for your combined pleasures. Geralt felt you begin to quake and writhe, and he snaked a hand between your bodies to rub circles against your clit. Your fingers dug further into his shoulders, pulling a low groan, and it’s as if the stars have aligned. His voice will always be your undoing, and you feel the fire roll up your spine and down to where your bodies meet. You hide your face in the crook of his neck as he keeps fucking up into you, a strike of lightning with every movement licking every nerve on your body. You breathe his name and clench down on him simultaneously, and that’s all it takes to drag Geralt to his release as well. He shifted his hips, pinning you below him once more as he gripped your hips as though he may lose you. He thrusted as deep as he could into you and stilled, the first jets of his seed filling you, hot and thick and like standing far too close to a fire, the intensity enthralling you. As his peak built, Geralt sank his teeth into your shoulder and fucked you with short snaps of his hips as he rode the tidal wave of his ecstasy. He cursed, mindless and needy. You felt his spend drip out of you around his cock as he kept thrusting, still spilling into you and chanting your name like a prayer to a demanding god, one who asked for everything he had and then asked for more. When he finally stilled, you wrapped your arms and legs around him, cradling him and whispering in his ear. It didn’t matter what you said, Geralt could only tell that you were actually still there with him. He moved to pull out of you, rolling over onto his back next to you. You rolled with him, curling your body against his side, letting him wrap his arms around you and place a kiss to the top of your head. The room smelled of sweat and sex and sin and you tilted your head up, locking eyes with Geralt, a question on your lips. He gently stroked his thumb along your arm as he waited, worried that you were hurt, or worse, that you regretted what you had just done. “Geralt?” you whispered, scared that speaking too loudly or suddenly would scare away the peace that had settled in the room, “I need to tell you something.” Geralt let out a sharp breath and moved to get out of the bed. He didn’t want to hear the pity in your voice or the hatred dripping from your words, he only wanted to tuck this away for him to remember you by. However, before he could get anywhere, you grabbed the sides of his face and placed a sweet kiss on his lips. The kiss was not one filled with lust or ulterior motives, but only of true care and admiration. Geralt relaxed back into your embrace, gently brushing your hair back from your face. You pulled away first, Geralt’s lips chasing yours for a heartbeat before he looked back down at you. “I hope that means that you’d like for me to stay,” Geralt said, a small quirk on his lips. You smiled back, saying “There is nowhere on this continent that I would rather be than right here, in your arms.” You both relaxed back down into the bed, each other’s slow breathing and even heartbeats lulling you into a deep slumber, no longer frustrated.

#geralt x reader #geralt #smut #geralt smut #smut prompts #my fic

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sassyshoulderangel319 · 5 years

Text

Daring Rescue

IDK. I LOVE the mermaid aesthetic and think it’s fabulous, but sometimes you just gotta shake it up. Punk!merfolk sound great and who better than Virgil? XD ChillpunkmerVirgilisawesome

“Look, all I’m saying is that you look a little... try-hard,” Logan said.

“Shut up,” Virgil retorted.

“Virgil, I understand you have a theme going on, but... you just look... Extra.”

“You’ve been hanging out with Remus too much.”

Ignoring Logan sighing out his gills, Virgil lounged on the rocks. Idly, he spun his trident around. It was made of black steel and studded with silver. It made him smirk in satisfaction just looking at it. It had taken him five years to get all the right materials together to make his weapon match his aesthetic.

Logan went on alert, spear in hand snapping upright. “Someone’s coming,” he hissed. “A mer.”

Virgil didn’t get off his rock. Just twitched his tail and put one arm behind his head. “How can you tell?”

“Can’t you smell the blood?”

“Not all of us are shark mers, Lo,” Virgil said, twiddling with the shark tooth on his necklace while his purple hair drifted around his head, too short to get tangled.

“Shouldn’t we get out of here?” Logan asked, looking around curiously. “What if they’re dangerous?”

“We’ll be fine. We’re warriors of the Crown. We can handle one measly mer on our own,” Virgil said.

“You’re remarkably relaxed.”

Virgil shrugged and spun his trident near Logan’s face to make a point. “We’ll be fine.”

Logan glanced in the direction the smell of blood was coming from and dodged cautiously around a large coral formation for cover. Virgil rolled his eyes and didn’t bother getting off his rock. Though, he could feel a disturbance in the current that signaled someone was coming. Huh. Logan was right. Logan was usually right.

^^^^^

Patton trembled and tried not to. It had been a long time since he’d been this deep. The shine of his scales was dulled in the darkness. Almost no sunlight made it this deep. He was much more surface-based---as evidenced by his freckles functioning the same way a human’s did. “R-Roman?” he called, quietly. “Roman, this isn’t---isn’t funny! Cut it out! Can we please go home?” He folded his arms over his ribs and used his hands to try and suppress the sound of his gills panting. This deep the water was nearly silent and he could hear his breathing.

His arm was bleeding from Roman enthusiastically dragging him into the trench and scraping it on the rock wall. He almost didn’t notice.

He couldn’t see anything. He was much more used to the shallows where the sun illuminated everything.

“You’re a long way from home, surmer,” a voice remarked.

Patton shrieked and whirled.

A deep-waters mer was lounging on a rock, bioluminescent freckles lighting up the black-and-silver trident he was twirling. His tail was dark violet with black patches and powerfully built.

“What... what did you call me?” Patton asked, voice trembling.

“A surmer. You’re a surface merperson,” the merman remarked.

Patton shook and used his tail to back away. He’d always heard deep water mers had a weird culture, and this guy seemed to be proving it. He had several shell piercings up both ears, a shark tooth hanging from a cord around his neck, and blackness lining his eyes. “I... I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you’ll excuse me... I gotta go find my friend.” He moved to leave.

The bioluminescent merman scoffed. “Surmers always were cowards. Can’t handle anything deeper than a couple hundred feet.”

Patton didn’t take the bait, just kept swimming. He was a fast swimmer near the surface, but the pressure this deep was making it harder for him to move, let alone race off.

The violet merman swam over, smirking. “What? Am I scaring you?”

“You don’t have to,” Patton retorted. “I’m already scared.” He met the violet merman’s eyes sharply, his own flashing a pale blue as he ducked underneath the man and kept going.

“You said you were looking for a friend. Maybe we saw them. What do they look like?” The merman followed after him.

“He’s got a red tail and red-to-green hair. I doubt you saw him,” Patton said. “And what do you mean, ‘we’?”

“All merfolk smaller than leviathans have pods, surmer. I meant me and my podmate.”

“Stop calling me that!” Patton snapped.

“Well you didn’t tell me your name, so I gotta call you sumpthin’,” the deep water merman said casually.

Patton glared as well as he could in the darkness. “It’s Patton, okay? Now leave me alone. I need to find Roman and your glowing isn’t helping me not freak out.”

“Nice to meet you, Patton. I’m Virgil. And what can I say? I’m bioluminescent. Lots of us down here are.”

“Go away. Please.”

Virgil scoffed and caught Patton’s arm. “You’re bleeding.” He turned to shout over his shoulder, “Hey Logan! I found the source of the blood you were smelling!”

Emerging from the darkness of the depths was a shark-type mer. Sharp teeth and eyes with a dark grey tail swishing through the water side-to-side instead of up-and-down. There was a spear held loosely in his right hand. He peered at Patton curiously. Patton couldn’t help but shrink away. Shark-types were rare close to the surface and could smell blood. If they were anything like normal sharks, the scent of blood could cause a feeding frenzy. “You’re from the surface,” the shark-type, identified as Logan by Virgil, remarked.

“Y-yes,” Patton said.

Logan took Patton’s bleeding arm and wrapped it in seaweed. “This should stifle the bleeding for now. You’d hate to bring actual sharks or shark-type mers with less control than me down on you.” He set his hands on his hips. “Now. You said you were looking for a friend---Roman, if I heard correctly.”

Patton nodded. He liked Logan better than he liked Virgil. Virgil seemed... dangerous. The trident-twirling didn’t help. He was intimidating. Scary. Logan seemed calm and level-headed. “Yeah. He dragged me down here. He’s... he’s the adventurous one. But when it got dark, we got separated and now I can’t find him.”

Logan inspected Patton again, taking in the dulled shine of his scales. “We’ll help you find him,” Logan said.

Virgil didn’t appear to be interested in the conversation. Just twisted the shaft of his trident around in his left hand and stared off into the darkness. But at Logan’s words he tuned in again. “Oh yeah, sure. In fact, I bet I know where he is.”

“Where?” Patton asked.

Virgil smirked. “Probably in the eel’s lair. Adventurous types always end up there.”

“The eel’s lair?”

“The lair of an eel-type merman who is proficient in magic,” Logan supplied. “Adventurers like to seek him out looking for spells and potions to aid them. Deep-water pods avoid him for the most part.”

“Is he... dangerous?”

“Anyone can be dangerous so that’s a difficult word to use. He is, however, tricky. He likes loopholes and double meanings.” Logan glanced at Virgil. “We might as well take a look.”

“What’s this eel’s name?” Patton asked. Naming things made them less scary.

Virgil shrugged. “No one down here knows. Like the shark said, we avoid him. But his reputation for tricking his... customers has earned him the nickname Deceit.”

Patton shivered from the top of his head to the ends of his fluke.

Logan noticed. “Don’t worry. We won’t make you go inside. Virgil and I will go in. If we find your friend, we’ll escort him out.”

“Actually, I’ll just go in,” Virgil said. “Lo, you stay outside and keep your eye on the surmer. It’s dangerous for cowards like him this deep.”

“I’m not a coward!” Patton exclaimed.

“Whatever. Let’s get moving.”

^^^^^

Virgil glanced at Logan and Patton as he readied his trident. “Stay here. Logan keep the surmer safe. Patton, don’t wander off. I’ll be back.” He twisted and dove into Deceit’s tunnel entrance to his cave. His knuckles turned white on the shaft of his trident.

“Weeellllll... if it isssn’t my ooold friiieeend,” a deep voice hissed. The glimmering scales of an eel wrapped briefly around Virgil’s tail before slithering off and swooping in front of him.

“Deceit,” Virgil replied flatly.

“Ohhh. Too good to ussse my real name now, old friend?”

“Logan is outside. With a surface merman,” Virgil said. “The surface merman is looking for a friend. Adventurous type. Red tail. Red-to-green hair. Goes by the name of Roman.”

“Oh, I’m sssure I haven’t ssssssseen sssuch a merman.” Deceit smiled, revealing his sharp teeth. His scales reached far past his waist, crawling even over his face, giving one eye a slit-pupil eel look.

“Deceit,” Virgil growled. “Give him up. Now.”

“I don’t have thisss merman you ssspeak of,” Deceit said.

“Don’t try me.” Virgil leveled his trident at Deceit’s throat. “I left your pod for a reason, you monstrous eel.” He pressed the middle, longest prong of his trident against Deceit’s throat.

“Ohhh. All grown up now, are we?�� Deceit smiled.

“Look, just give me Roman and I’ll get out of your scales.”

“Nothing comesss without a priccce, old friend.”

Virgil clenched his jaw. “How about the price is that I don’t skewer you where you float?” he growled.

“Ooh. Somebody getsss a big ssscary stick and suddenly he’sss the boss? Honey, that’s a laugh and a half.”

“Don’t try me,” Virgil repeated. “I’ve grown since I left your pod.”

“Ssso have I, dear Virgil,” Deceit hissed.

Virgil encroached on Deceit’s space harder, prong slicing the skin of the eel-type’s throat. Blood floated through the water, diffusing in the sea. “Let. Roman. Go.”

The humanoid skin on the right side of Deceit’s face went pale. “Alright, alright. But the biiillllll comesss duuue, little Virgil.”

Deceit waved a hand.

The darkness of the cave lifted somewhat to reveal a merman bound in kelp. Muscular, he matched Patton’s description. He wasn’t much longer than Virgil, but his tail was built for power. Virgil’s for speed.

Another wave of Deceit’s hand and the merman was free from the kelp. He whirled.

“Take him and go. But when you come back, the priccce will be sssteep.”

Virgil grabbed Roman’s wrist and pushed him behind him. “I don’t intend to ever come back, Deceit,” he spat. Turning tail, Virgil dragged Roman after him. “You’re another surmer. Your friend Patton came looking for you.”

Roman stared at the row of shell piercings up Virgil’s ear. “Did you know him?”

“A long time ago. Don’t tell anyone,” Virgil growled. His knuckles were white on his trident again.

“I sense a bad history.”

“Don’t. Tell. Anyone,” Virgil snapped again, voice dark. His grip tightened on Roman’s wrist.

“Okay, okay. Sheesh. I won’t.”

“Good.”

They reached the mouth of the cave. Virgil shoved Roman in Patton’s direction.

“Ro! You’re okay!” Patton exclaimed, throwing his arms around Roman’s shoulders.

“You two should head back to the surface. Immediately,” Virgil said. Logan watched the color return to Virgil’s knuckles as his grip on his trident slacked. The two surface mermen stared at him.

“Y-yes. Of---of course,” Patton stammered. “Ro, let’s go. Please?”

Roman nodded agreement. He gave Virgil a slight bow of his head in gratitude, put a hand on Patton’s back, and pushed him up toward the surface before following after. Virgil glanced over at Logan.

“We should get out of here too. This place gives me the creeps,” he said.

Logan grunted. “Indeed. Even for the depths this water is frigid. Let’s be off.”

Side-by-side, they swam away from Deceit’s lair.

^^^^^

Deceit clicked his tongue, watching the Pearl’s image of the violet merman and his shark companion as they swam away from Deceit’s cave. “Flee, little Virgil. Flee,” he whispered maliciously. “But you’ll be back. One day. You’ll need something from me. And you’ll be back. I promissse.”

#my writing #Sanders Sides #Virgil Sanders #Logan Sanders #Patton Sanders #Roman Sanders #Deceit Sanders #when did Virgil become the Bad Boy?#IDK #oops #bad characterization #mermaid #mermaid!AU #Deceit doesn't hiss on every S sound #just when he's trying to be intimidating #writing

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izukillme-moved · 5 years

Text

‘un amour exquis’

For @mdelpin, for being amazing (and also because they requested this, but that’s a minor detail XD)

I hope you like it! I really enjoyed writing this *gives you back your heart wrapped up in the nice silk cover I promised*

Oh, how Gray wishes that the icy prince might have had a chance instead.

It is a hope that makes his insides burn with pain and loss and longing. A wish that is but dust in the crushing hands of reality. A futile dream that can never come true, not in a million years - that sets his heart on fire that burns like nothing Gray has ever experienced, hotter than hot, hotter than Natsu’s flames even -

Don’t think about him - !

But it is too late. Gray chokes on air, hot tears stinging at the backs of his eyes, a bitter taste rising in his throat. His lungs constrict, folding in on themselves, hiding away from the rest of the world.

Just like he wants to do.

Gray closes his eyes and throws his head back, willing the tears to shrink back into his skull.

You’re stronger than this, stronger than this, stronger than this -

A warm hand grips his arm suddenly, and Gray starts up in shock, goggling at the blur of pink that, as his vision clears, becomes a mop of pink hair and a - for once - serious face.

“We need to talk.” is all Natsu says, dragging Gray out of the guild before he can protest.

Once they are out, Gray crosses his arms and leans against the cool wall - he must have lost his shirt again, he muses absently. “What is it? Spit it out.” Harsh words have always come easy between him and Natsu, and it’s become something of a natural defense now - a way to hide the pain, to hide his love underneath the guise of rivalry and dislike.

Natsu blows out breath and says, “I was talking to Lucy.”

Lucy, Lucy, Lucy. Goddamn Lucy.

Gray can’t help the little bit of resentment and bitterness that seeps into his tone when he says, “And exactly why the fuck do you think I need to know this?”

Natsu’s voice is soft when he says, “She said you loved me.”

Gray never thought his world could shatter with just a few words.

It’s like a physical blow. He can only stare vacantly, wide-eyed, at Natsu, breathing, “H - how? I - I hid it - how?”

Strength leaking away like water, he sinks to his knees - well, almost sinks to his knees.

Before Natsu steps forward to hold him up against the wall. Not pushing into his windpipe like he usually would, but - softly. Gently. As if he’s supporting him.

And it is this, this kindness from a man who loves another and is still accepting enough to hold him despite knowing he loves him, that makes Gray shatter.

Sobs rend the heavens as the Ice Wizard screams, the temperature dropping by several degrees.

And then utter silence.

Gray clamps his jaw firmly shut, unwilling to let that last roar of pain escape his throat. “I - I’m sorry,” he rasps, self-control stretched to the limit. Ready to snap any minute now.

Natsu looks him in the eye, then. “For what?”

And then he is kissing him, warm lips on cold, and a fire starts to burn in Gray’s heart. Not like the fire that had made him long for Natsu - but the warm, familiar feeling of knowing Natsu is here.

And then -

LucyLucyLucy

The thought thrums through Gray’s mind, and he roughly shoves Natsu away, snarling, “You fucking asshole,”

Natsu doesn’t resist, falling ungracefully to the suddenly icy ground, staring dumbly up at Gray. “But-” he says, brown eyes wide and full of innocent confusion. “But isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Not if you love Lucy,” Gray growls. “You’re in love with her, you can’t cheat on her like that. I want her to be happy! She’s my goddamn nakama! How much ever I love you, I won’t let you do this to her-”

“What?” The sound is utterly dumbfounded. “Me... and Lucy? In... love?”

Gray’s lips press together tightly. “Isn’t it obvious? Has been since you met her.”

Natsu looks at him in complete bewilderment.

And then breaks into a series of guffaws, clutching his stomach.

“Gray-” he wheezes. “No, oh Gods. Lucy’s like a sister to me!”

Gray frowns, world spinning to accommodate this new information. “Wh - what?”

Natsu’s laughs slow, and he looks up, eyes still shining with mirth. “I’ve been told that I’m quite possibly the most gay man on Earthland multiple times. And Lucy is the biggest lesbian I’ve ever met - have you not seen her look at Lisanna? I was talking to Lucy about you, you idiot. About how to confess to you. Seeing as how today’s Valentine’s Day and all? I was gonna make it so romantic and everything, and you went and ruined it by being a grumpy drama queen.”

“You were going to confess to me?” Gray croaks.

Natsu nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I was. I mean, this is pretty much the confession anyway. I like you, it’s obvious you like me, so let’s skip forward a bit and just start going out already?”

Gray smirks.

“Only if I get to do this,” he says quietly, and grabs Natsu by his scarf, pulling him closer until there’s barely an inch of space between them. Between his and Natsu’s lips. He can feel Natsu’s burning hot breath on his skin.

It’s the only hot sensation he’s ever liked.

He closes the distance between them, and then they are kissing, and his whole world is nothing more than pink hair and soft lips and the sweet-spicy-tangy smell that Gray has come to associate with summer, with Natsu.

And as they pull apart, Gray realises this.

The icy prince was always the one whose arms the dragon returned to.

#gratsu #gray x natsu #natsu x gray #angst #fluff #happy ending i swear #part 2 of la douleur exquise #long post #writing #ceru writes

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thecrotchhand · 6 years

Text

health class >:(

-ug

-did somebody say rick of suicide

-”ooh, there’s a laser!” -student teacher

-good ways to manage stress- “punching a hole through the wall”

-”do you have a long-term goal?” “dying”

-”we should deport justin bieber back to canada”

-”if you say you're gonna do something, then do it" "i'm gonna kill myself ;))"

-"i'm busy singing Africa by Toto" *off-key singing continues*

-"when you lose weight, where does it go?" "it goes to weight heaven"

-the guy next to me started playing Africa quietly from his phone

-"i'm talking to bowl cut. just kidding chris. i love you." "...i'm getting a haircut."

-"you don't lift to get swole" -st

-"that sounds not good for you" "i'm gonna try it"

-"during pregnancy, the women in here are gonna need more folate, iron, and calcium" "no, i'm gonna need a coathanger"

-"liar liar pants for hire"

-"is eustress good stress or bad stress?" (long silence) "it's good stress! yay!" -st

-good ways to relax- "11 hours straight of anime"

-"everything's gonna be ok" lmao good joke

-"precipitation... wait i mean perspiration. it still counts, it's raining from your body."

-ways to manage depression- "kill yourself :D"

-help the teacher (flynn) has been yelling at us for the past five minutes

-uh oh she said damn it's gettin' wild

-she went back into her office after and all of a sudden we hear a quiet "oh, happy Wednesday"

-"is it possible to have an abortion 700 weeks late?"

-"what's the r-word we talked about?" "rawr XD"

-"what does autonomy mean?" "it's like grey's anatomy but for cars"

-alcoholism is a good sims trait

-guy: sneezes

guy's friend: "god bless... america"

-”what do you say to your sibling during an argument?” "you should've been aborted" “no”

- "your personality might be kind of boring" "like a potato!" "yeah"

-"what does down to earth mean?" "it means you're like the lorax, you speak for the trees"

-"he was happy?" "yeah! put him working with me and larson for ten years and... we fixed him!"

-the student teacher generally has a habit of sarcastic yaying and it entertains me

-"jason (chris) move your head" "just throw a rock at it, it'll move"

-someone was trying to come up with weird phobias and someone suggested genital herpes

-"sir you've been diagnose with hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia " "aahHH"

-"if someone comes up to you and says a mean word, you're gonna be upset" "hey sam" "what" "fuck"

-"i found a big circle"

-"*cough* flynn"

flynn, out of nowhere: "i heard that"

-"have you guys seen cabin in the woods?" "wait, the one with the cabin in the woods?"

-:(

-"let's say you don't have a gun" "pft, not in america"

-we were talking about miscarriage and cody goes "fetus... deletus"

-examples of anger- "when mcdonald's doesn't have ice cream"

-video from the 80's: "depression isn't talked about"

-a seal saved this guy's life and he just: 'ah yes it was all because of god' ¿¿¿???

-80's commercials are the weirdest shit

-yepperdoodles

-"...gonna get addicted to xanax"

-"you guys all did a really good job on your tests" "i got a C" "i got a D+" "yeah there wasn't a single person i was not happy with"

-"you say you see really good scores, but what i'm seeing is a D"

-examples of compromise- "i got a D+, but i feel i deserved an A, so let's meet in the middle with a C" "but what do i get out of it?" "if he passes the class, you don't have to see him anymore"

-"oh no my one feeling"

-"what are some ways to resolve conflict?" "killing yourself"

-"put away the candy this is health class"

-(talking about conflict) "...then the fire nation attacked"

-(softly) "yo what the heck dawg"

-"if they started a rumor-" "kill them"

-"when i was-" "a young boy"

-"you got two more weeks with the student teacher, then you get me back" *high pitched screaming*

-"they never broke out, and then one of them broke out"

-"wrestling uniforms are skimpy"

-(across the room) "hey man, can i touch your butt?" "i don't mind, dude"

-"let's say my wife is going to leave me and i'm... celebrating! oh wait"

-"they're fat and skinny, they're white, black, pink, purple, and orange-" "trump"

-"listen, idiotface"

-"do you think... the government is hiding the cure for cancer...?"

-i love government conspiracy theories during health

-"i... declare... bAnkrUptCY"

-"are we watching a movie?" "maybe if we're lucky it's the ring and it'll kill us"

-lmao i don't need drugs to feel numb

-"aww, flynn, we know you're drinkin' a bottle in the back room" "yeah, just look at ya, why wouldn't i?"

-The Weed™

-"weed stops your sperm from being produced correctly" "perfect, it's birth control too"

-"weed might shrink your... parts" "i think i'll just stick to meth"

-"weed might give you a special needs child" "it's wilson 2.0!"

-"i'm gonna be a drug dealer but not a mean one like a nice, happy 'eyy, wanna buy some drugs? :3'"

-oh no, grandma's growing weed in the basement

-"ahh, the weed's on fire"

-"guess that's how they caught the drug dealers. the deer were high"

-teacher: "ooh, i just sounded like yoda: don't smoke The Weed™"

-"hey, where can you buy a still? asking for a cousin"

-"raise your hand if you want to watch hentai"

-this guy keeps responding to people with "yes, my child?"

-"they put aborted fetuses in vaccines" "oh honey no"

-"how do you keep yourself from getting sick?" "stop breathing"

-examples of painkillers- "cocaine"

-"i know elvis presley is still alive because the king never dies"

-biggest drinker in our grade: "am i gonna be an alcoholic?" class: "you already are"

-c o m p r o m i s i n g p o s i t i o n

-"trick question, i am hentai"

-"what would you do... if i said i could put you in your own hentai"

-"you're gettin' a hole in your nose oh my goodness"

-"depression" "nope" "wait... depression"

-"I can't remember the happiness i felt before drugs" "i can't remember feeling happiness at all"

-"oh you're back! just in time for meth"

-"oh my garage"

-"lotta meth in that town" "nah just incest"

-"it kills your brain cells. which some of you can't afford (staring directly at the class alcoholic)"

-"why do dentists have the highest suicide rate?? probably because everyone hates the dentist, i dunno"

-"that's accusations" "uuuuuhh no" "oh"

-"oh my gads. you got some meth?"

-"in the puss!" "terms" "sorry. vag!"

-"there's a pretty good chance that drug came out of someone's anal cavity" "that's why i don't do heroin"

-"hey, whose buttocks did this come out of?"

"i'm gonna go shoot myself with some dog food, brb"

-"oh my chicken pie"

-"i've been told we're gonna draw a penis"

-help they're genuinely discussing giving babies steroids

-"most of the female reproductive cells are useless" "just like my brain cells"

-the teacher keeps referring to developing babies as "little rat" and "alien creature"

-"if you eat my period snacks, i will eat you"

-*chiming* "is that santa??"

-"what's the only fluid that doesn't go to the baby?" "water" "no" "air" "no" "earth" "..." "fire"

-"you're supposed to snort those calcium pills" "don't snort the calcium pills"

-"mr. o'reilly, when'd you miss your period?"

-"is it true you puke the day after you get pregnant?" "no, if you puke the day after, it's from the alcohol the night before"

-fetus = jumbo shrimp

- i too, am a very sad lookin' heart

-"no, you cannot throw up your baby"

-"now that we've taken the baby home, we need to figure out what to do with it" "flush it down the toilet"

-"if you wear a hat all the time, all your hair is gonna fall out and die" "ha ha kevin, you're gonna die"

-"since i was 14. and i'm 112"

-"big dumb"

-"what do you want to be when you grow up?" "dead"

-"my parents say: 'hey... whatcha doin' with that 24-pack?'"

-"did jeffery dahmer's mom love him?" "hope not"

-"ohh i love the smell of babies *sniff sniff*"

-"they can be found in places that are... places"

-"why are there rotting apples under here?" "no you gotta let those ferment"

-"what's something you lose by age 3?" "hope"

-the guy in front of me had marvel porn on his phone????????????? hentai hulk's bright red ass is permanently ingrained in my mind

-"what am i supposed to do to live 2 more years? wrap myself in bubble wrap and eat brussel sprouts?"

-"for every 10 pounds overweight you are, subtract 1." "-50"

-"you're wearing a flamingo shirt, you're no one's favorite"

-"you don't snort viagra"

-"how do you feel about having guns in our home?" "how do you feel about how quickly i'd use it to kill myself?"

-"hey, 2 seniors walking down the hallway! wanna give her your papers?" "outta my way. hey! get back here and gimme your papers, ya bums."

-"it's not just the genitals that transfer STDs" "left calf"

-"what if they got an STD some other way?" "drinking sprite"

-"...serial monogamy-" "cereal is for mornings"

-"...trading sex for-" "chicken nugget"

-"you wanna try sex wearing a hazmat suit, go ahead" "don't kinkshame me"

-"STI: spaghetti time infection. it's an epidemic"

-"g- ross"

-"AIDS didn't come from sex with a monkey" "it's definitely about sex with monkeys"

-"what kinds of drugs do i need if i have AIDS?" "nothing, you wanna die"

-"do you know what they do to get rid of genital warts?" "chop your dick off" "mix wart cream with water and drink it"

-oh no they found out what they do get rid of genital warts

-"they shove a q-tip in your penis" "iiiiii'd rather die"

-"is that what tinder is? swipe right if you want crabs?"

-"i would suggest not setting your genitals on fire"

- "your penis doesn't do tricks"

-"do you have a driver's license? *nod* "do you have a car?" *nod* "are you a big boy?" *unsure nod*

-"i know it's only the last day but i will make you suffer for every last minute" "then i'll just do what i always do *sleeps*"

-our resident alcoholic was washing the board and people were jokingly flirting with him so he tied his shirt into a bikini and continued washing so the teacher docked him points for it. don't worry he was already failing

#quotes #notes #class #american school #american schools #meme #wtf #out of context quotes #offensive humor #i wouldn't be surprised if our class is the one that causes our teacher to become an alcoholic

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canadian-buckbeaver · 7 years

Text

A Demon’s Fight (aka: Beaver’s Revenge)

@nikki-on-edge - thank you for all your wonderful pictures... even if I do five you a hard time over them XD

Kudos or comment on my archive! http://archiveofourown.org/works/10202873

Buy me a Double-Double? https://ko-fi.com/A476NAZ

It was a typical day in Underfell. Nothing was blooming, the air full of the sweet, sickly smell of rot, trash strewn everywhere, and screams and battle cries of monsters could be heard for miles. The birds who bravely flew the troubled skies, took careful care to avoid the two skeleton monsters who were walking through the darkened forest.

“UNDYNE HAS PROMISED ME A REMATCH FOR THE TITLE OF CAPTAIN IF I CATCH A HUMAN. THEREFORE, IT IS IMPERATIVE THAT WE MUST MAKE SURE THAT MY TRAPS ARE FULLY FUNCTIONAL AND SET IN CASE ONE COMES BY. I WON’T LOSE MY SHOT BECAUSE A FLESH BAG THINKS THEY CAN WEASEL ON BY ME WITHOUT DIRE CONSEQUENCES.” The tall, dark Papyrus told his brother.

“i don’t think that can help your case, bro.” the much shorter Sans replied nonchalantly, sticking his hands in his pockets as he quietly waited. As usual, his brother fell for the bait.

“WHY? DO YOU THINK I NEED MORE TRAPS? OR PERHAPS I NEED THEM TO BE MORE DEADLY?” Papyrus asked, his scarred brow now rising in worry. He was truly desperate for that title of Captain. It was what he had been determined to become all his life, even as a baby bones.

Sans chuckled. “no because a weasel isn’t a human. it’s an animal. you wouldn’t be able to use that to get a rematch with undyne.”

Papyrus reacted immediately. His pale skull flushed with bright red magic, his eye lights shrinking in on themselves. “SANS! YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I DESPISE YOUR STUPID PUNS! CAN YOU SAVE THEM FOR GRILLBY’S WHERE THE REST OF THE DRUNKEN PATRONS FIND THEM MILDLY AMUSING?” he spat, trying to ignore the twitching of his jaw.

He wasn’t as lucky, unfortunately for him, as Sans noticed it.

“come on boss… you liked it! i see ya smiling!” Sans began to laugh. He loved it when Boss enjoyed his jokes but still played tough to crack.

“I AM AND I HATE IT!” exclaimed the edgy skeleton, his jagged teeth flashing in the artificial sunlight. Sans stared at him. With his lean and tall figure, his blood red eyes and sharp teeth, Papyrus was definitely the coolest. He was surprised when clawed red gloves grasped his jaw and pulled him closer to him. Papyrus’ eyes were narrowed. “YOU HAVE A SMART MOUTH, SANS,” he told him, “BUT I CAN THINK OF OTHER WAYS THAT YOU COULD BE USING IT…”

Sans gulped, stunned at the sudden change in his demeanor. It was still a surprise when Papyrus switched from brother mode to lover. “b-b-boss… i…” he stuttered, his broad tongue already forming in his mouth. Papyrus stared down at him, his skull holding his signature knowing smirk and half lidded eyes, a finger leisurely stroking Sans’ cheek. But Sans wasn’t looking at Papyrus right now. Instead, he was looking behind him.

“boss… didn’t you have traps set up in this area?” he asked quietly, trying to remember.

Papyrus turned around, now also puzzled. “I HAD A ROPE SNARE… IN THAT TREE… JUST IN CASE SOMEONE MANAGED TO GET BY MY SPIKE PITFALLS…” he whispered.

Shallow footsteps, previously unseen, had cut through the fresh snow. Almost in front if the two skeleton monsters, right where the snare was, it looked like someone had fallen and been forced to the ground. Looking at each other first, Sans and Papyrus looked up into the tree at the same time.

The lowest branch was where the snare had been attached. Instead of seeing just the dreaded rope trap though, there was a grey and black haired being, clothed in a dark hoodie and deep red pants, a red bandana around their neck, with Papyrus’ rope wrapped around their boots. Several bandages were wrapped around their arms, giving them a slightly mummified look. Sans wondered if, under their pants, that their legs were the same too – not that it made a difference in the long run. Calm, black eyes stared back at skeletons.

No one said anything at first. Papyrus was transfixed at the sight of the human… the human stared silently back at them, while Sans was trying to withhold his surprise. This wasn’t Frisk or Chara… had the timeline cycle finally broken? Were they finally free?

But… that aura… it was different… deadly… toxic… it sent shivers down Sans’ backbone. This human was even worse news than the kid.

Of course, Papyrus was the first to break the silence. “HUMAN!” he shouted, causing even the most courageous of birds to fly away from the area in fear. “HUMAN! YOU HAVE BEEN CAPTURED BY THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS! THE STRONGEST MONSTER OF THE UNDERGROUND! NO ONE, OTHER THAN UNDYNE AND ASGORE, HAS EVER SURVIVED A DUEL WITH ME! BUT, YOU’RE IN LUCK TODAY, HUMAN! TODAY, I AM FEELING NICE, AND AM IN A GOOD MOOD. DEPENDING ON YOUR NEXT MOVE I MAY YET PROVE MERCIFUL AND GRANT YOU A QUICK AND PAINLESS DEATH.”

The human blinked and sighed. “Listen, I was supposed to meet up with a buddy so…” A gleaming knife appeared in their hands and, quick as a blink, they had sliced through the rope, falling from the tree. The person turned midair, falling into a superhero crouch. Even Papyrus was stunned into silence. The grey and black hair wasn’t the only thing unusual about this human. They had a single dark, calculating and cool eye, one that seemed to watch the both of them intently, as if they weren’t even shaken by the sight of two walking skeletons, both with jagged and sharp teeth. A mask, appearing to be of cow or goat, covered the other eye, and its eyes too stared back at the skeletons – the tiniest sliver of red watching the skeletons.

“I’m already late.” The human said, turning on their ankles and beginning to walk away. Papyrus and Sans were in shock. Not a single monster, let alone a human, had ever talked or treated them with such disrespect before. Even Asgore made sure that he made time to listen to them when they held audience. “HALT!” screeched Edge. The human stopped and stared at them with that lone blank, uninterested eye. Sans could see Papyrus seething. He, like Sans, didn’t like this reaction. It was unnatural.

Papyrus, for once, was unnerved.

“I AM THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS!” he said again. “AND I CLAIM YOU AS MY CAPTIVE. YOU SHALL BE TAKEN TO THE CAPITAL, WHERE YOUR SOUL WILL BE HARVESTED FROM YOUR BODY. BUT, AS YOU HAVE TRIED MY PATIENCE, I WILL NOT BE AS GENTLE ON YOU. YOU MUST LEARN RESPECT IN THE LITTLE TIME THAT YOU HAVE LEFT IN YOUR MISERABLE LIFE… WHERE ARE YOU GOING?” he demanded. The human had started to walk off again in the middle of his speech! How rude! How dare they?

The human sighed again, turning again to face them. “Listen, I’m already late. I don’t want to be held up any more than I already have by a couple of hot air balloons.”

Sans would have laughed at the look of Papyrus’ face if he was in a different situation. Papyrus was flushed deep red in colour, and was a complete sputtering mess. His eye sockets were blank and empty….

A bad sign. Papyrus was no longer unnerved but instead was angry, very angry… he always did stupid things when he was angry.

“SANS…” he whispered, dangerously.

Sans shrugged, he knew this was coming. “welp. nice talking to you kid.” he said, his ruby eye flaring to life as he performed a check. He saw:

Nikki Half-Demon. HP: 220/220 Level: 18 (it was here that Sans had to pause. This… human, its LOVE was almost as high as Asgore?) SHE changed her into the monster she was forced to become.

“WELL?” asked Papyrus, once Sans finished his check.

He looked over at his brother, his lover. “we’re in for a bad time if we continue down this path, boss. are you sure you want to continue?”

Papyrus snorted at Sans’ warning, looking back at the human. “I CAN’T LET ONE LITTLE, BRAT TARNISH MY REPUTATION.” He snarled. In an easy, well-practiced movement he summoned his glowing bone sword, and bolted forward, swinging a long slash at the creature.

Just as it looked as if it was over for the human, the bone sword just about to cleave her in two, the human jumped back, landing well clear of Papyrus’ attack. “There’s one thing you should know about me…” their voice had changed to stone-cold, their eye… how could Sans describe the changes to their eye? The white of their eye was no longer white, but instead as dark and black as the winter night, and their irises had changed to a deep, blood red. “I HATE BEING CALLED LITTLE!” she screamed. It was with a burst of wind and energy, swirling around her, that sent Papyrus flying backwards against Sans. Sans, managing to catch his beloved brother before he crashed against a tree or worse, attempted to keep his sockets open to watch the creature, but was forced to close it against the raging windstorm. When at last it had quieted, Sans opened his eyes again, his own magical iris activated, staring at Nikki. Oh boy.

If he had thought that the eyes and the voice was bad… well… Papyrus and him were in for a real shit storm now. A long graceful tail, appearing to be like the ones he had heard that lion’s had, the tip being covered in the same grey as their hair, wrapped around her figure. Wings, appearing to be more like demon hands, one blue and one red, had sprouted from their back, gnashing their summoned teeth and growling at the monsters.

“Who’s ready to play with me?” she mockingly asked, the tail wrapping around her tighter and higher. A long, thin and deadly red spike appeared at the end of the tip, completing the strange and deadly look.

Papyrus, for the first time in a long time, was uncertain. Well, Sans smirked, maybe he’ll be more careful.

“ready paps?” he asked, his eye shining brighter as he shoved his hands in his pockets, grinning a savage grin, the light glinting off his gold tooth. This could be fun. Would be exciting to have a new, unusual challenge for once.

Papyrus looked over at him. Seeing Sans’ battle stance, he too smiled. “READY WHEN YOU ARE, BROTHER.” Several glowing red bones appeared behind him, with regular white ones, just for good measure.

Nikki let out a cool sounding chuckle. “If fools are in such a hurry to die, I’ll grant your wish.” With a loud roar she leapt to the trees and at the two brothers, a knife in each hand. She was truly ready for battle.

Sans teleported away, landing in a high branch to watch for an opening. With his 1 HP it made him a target. Besides he was more of a long distance fighter. His bones, gravity attacks and Gaster Blasters were effective at a distance, where he could weave his complicated web of death… making the human dance their way foolishly into his grasp… and the final blow.

Papyrus was more of a mid-range fighter. His Gaster Blasters were not as strong, big or as developed as Sans, but his bone attacks were second to no one. He was a true opponent of Undyne, and had even survived the few skirmishes he had made against Asgore. He would not fall as easily as the human thought.

Bones erupted from the ground and appeared everywhere in the sky. Front, left, behind right, above and below. Nikki was completely surrounded. With simply a wave of his clawed hand, Papyrus let them fly. To his astonishment, Nikki dodged every single one with absolute ease. Every move she made was thoroughly calculated. She wove her way forward toward them. Always advancing. When she was in front of Papyrus, she made her own slash with her knife, attempting to sever him from the pelvis to the shoulder.

For a moment, time stood still for Sans. He wasn’t going to watch his brother die again, was he? Not like he was with the usual abomination? No… he couldn’t let that happen!

Before he could do anything though, Papyrus spun and moved, appearing directly behind the human. Swinging his foot out far, he kicked the human in the back, sending her forward and tumbling into the snow. “IMPRESSIVE HUMAN, YOU ALMOST HAD ME THERE. BUT NO ONE DEFEATS THE TERRIBLE PAPYRUS!”

The snow began to melt around the human as a sinister laugh rang out. Tremendous amount of heat radiated from the human where they stood. Sans checked them again. They had taken some damage, but not a lot. Nowhere near enough. Their defense was too high. “Ah… you need to shut your mouth bone man.” they said, brushing off the snow from their clothes. To the brothers’ surprise, orange sparks briefly gleamed before dying out in the cold. “I like your style Papyrus,” they admitted, “but can you keep up with me?”

All Sans saw was a flash of wing and Papyrus was once again driven backwards, this time because Nikki had punched him in his lower jaw, hitting him hard enough to crack the bone.

“PAPS!” he screamed. He summoned his bones then, as the human pivoted to make another attack. The bones erupted between Papyrus and Nikki, sending her jumping back to avoid damage.

“I thought you would have been stronger considering how you moved your mouth at the beginning of all this.” She smirked. “But I guess you showboat to make up for a lot, don’t you?”

Sans’ eyesight went red with fury. “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” he screamed, setting off a single Gaster Blaster, which she easily dodged. “YOU KNOW NOTHING!”

Nikki chuckled. “Come on Sans. I know your moves and I know you’ve read my stats. How about you give up while you have the chance, hm?” Her own eyes flared, red as the sparks she had summoned. “It’ll turn out better for you after all!” she cackled.

Sans jumped off from where he was in the tree, and summoned three of his Blasters. One after another they went off, slowly driving her backwards. Just as Sans thought he could drive her away from the two of them, a single snowball hit him in the face. “Got you!” she cried out triumphantly, rushing forward, her hand in a power-thrust position.

Shit! Sans teleported away, summoning his bones to take the hit. They crumpled into dust upon impact, not startling her… she didn’t even take any damage.

This might be one enemy that the two of them just couldn’t win against… Sans felt the movement behind him. Papyrus.

He was holding his jaw, and one leg shook to hold his weight but he was in one piece. Sans was relieved but he knew that he wouldn’t survive another hit. “let’s finish this. right now.” he told Papyrus, reverting to their secret language.

Nikki’s eye furrowed in confusion. Good. She didn’t understand. They could use that as an advantage.

Papyrus eyed Sans warily. “HOW?” he asked

A large, shit-eating smirk spread across Sans’ skull. “undyne and the gaster technique of course. overwhelm and punish.” he said easily, loving the growing confusion and annoyance on Nikki’s face. But she was a honourable warrior. She paced around them, looking for an opening, but not attacking. Waiting for them to be ready. But that’s when the kill felt even better. No cheap shots. Just honour. And determination.

Papyrus snorted, he actually snorted at Sans’ statement. “I LIKE IT. I ALWAYS KNEW THAT YOU WERE A SMART ASS.” he said, once again summoning his long bone sword, and posing.

“I don’t care what tricks you have planned. I can take you on!” declared Nikki, as she reached into her pocket and threw something. Papyrus and Sans dodged as one, separating from the other as the sound of metal whistled past their skulls. They were shuriken! Some sort of ancient human weapon.

It was time to be done with this. This had gone on far too long and Papyrus was hurt. Sans summoned his bones, creating a maze that Nikki attempted to navigate, while again advancing towards them. She suddenly jumped back and flung something else at Sans, causing him to teleport to Papyrus’ side. A thin, glimmering needle was stuck in the ground where had stood, seconds before. Was there any weapon that this person didn’t have on them?

Their wings unexpectedly flapped open and down, sending Nikki high into the air as she dropped something from above. Sans didn’t take any chances, he couldn’t afford to. Clutching his brother tightly, he teleported them away, behind a rock. A small explosion erupted from the clearing. Sans scowled. Damnit this chick was packing heat, and she was unpredictable… and a damn good fighter.

As much as he hated to admit it, Papyrus could learn a thing or two from her. “Come on out guys…” Nikki sang, as she lightly landed on the ground. “You know I’ll find you eventually…~”

Catching Papyrus’ eye, he made a sign. Papyrus stared at him for a moment, smirked and nodded.

* * * * *

“Come on guys, I haven’t got all day! I told you I’m already late for my meeting!” Nikki said, annoyed now. The fight had been fun at first, sure she had taken some damage but she was kicking the Fell’s asses! She couldn’t wait to tell Precious about this!

She saw two shadows hiding behind rock. The two skeletons must be trying to hide from her, make a break when they could. Nikki chuckled again, reforming into her normal, almost human form again.

Stealthily making her way over to them, she took care to be quiet and duck behind everything that she could. She didn’t want them to hear or see her coming. Surprisingly, they didn’t make a move. Just sat there, still as stone. This was going to be easier than she thought~

She jumped in front of the stone, knives drawn and at ready. To her surprise, no skeletons greeted her. Just two, smaller Gaster Blasters, magic formed in their jaws and ready to fire. “Damn it! Fuck me!” she explained as the magic was released and sped towards her.

As the world faded to white, she heard Red chuckle. “Can be arranged for later, sweetheart.”

* * * * *

She awoke much later. Groaning she attempted to move her aching body, only to find her arms hanging above her head. She woke fully with a gasp and stared upwards. Handcuffs were on her wrists and attached to the ceiling, while a body-cuff held her waist to the wall.

They obviously weren’t taking any chances with her escaping.

“Those cuffs you wear are anti-magic.” Papyrus told her from her side. “Any magic you attempt to use will be absorbed and then used against you. You shall be taken to the Capital in the morning, where you will find your death by King Asgore himself. You should feel honoured though,” Papyrus said, “not many creatures do so well against me and my brother in battle.”

He closed and locked the door behind him, confining Nikki to the dark prison, with only the window for light. She sighed, uncomfortable.

A shadow passed by the window and Nikki looked up to see a familiar furry face staring at her, its buck teeth glinting in the moonlight.

“Took you long enough.” she told the other. “What happened to you?”

The beaver sighed and readjusted her hat. “Hey. Figured I would give you guys some alone time, see if anything happened…” the beaver replied, shooting the bound demon a wink.

“Oh fuck you!” Nikki spat. She usually enjoyed Buck’s jokes, but here and now was far too much.

Buck just sighed. “And I had just got the key for your chains.” She sighed in dramatic fashion, showing a tiny silver key. “Sans hid in it his mustard bottle… disgusting…” she shuddered. “But if that’s the way you’re gonna be I can mosey on out of here and be on my way…”

“Buck no wait! I’m sorry… Precious!” Nikki called out, to the disappearing beaver. She was once again alone.

A sudden weight on her left hand had her looking up.

Buck.

“Now, would I ever leave you hanging?” she asked, unlocking the one hand and then the other, moving on to the body-cuff.

Nikki took in a deep breath as the cuff released around her. “No you definitely would not…” she admitted.

Buck nodded, crawling to Nikki’s shoulder, careful not to jostle the mask. “Come on. We have salami pizza at the base. It’s spicy…”

Nikki quickly climbed up the wall and immediately had the two of them out the window. As they made their way over to a familiar portal Nikki chuckled. “Stretch and I are so going to need to plan some revenge for you taking your sweet-ass time though.” she said chuckling over Buck’s surprised squeak and blush.

#fellcest #uf!sans #uf!papyrus #own character #battle #violence #weapons #buck's revenge #wahahahahahahahahaha #heart

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