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redorich · 3 years

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For the canyon au, what would happen if one of the hermits got hurt during a scout? Like, if etho is out scouting, something happens, and he’s unable to message the hermits or get help. Would he be willing to be seen? Would any smpers besides Puffy help him?

Zedaph didn't mean to leave the canyon, honest! He was just looking for a sheep of his own for a completely ethical experiment involving pistons and a perfectly reasonable quantity of peanut butter, thank you very much. He wasn’t about to steal a sheep from someone else’s farm, and for some reason sheep don’t tend to spawn at bedrock level. So really, he had no choice!

Zedaph is rethinking a lot of his decisions. He’s also wondering if he left the jump-powered stove on. Then he remembers that it’s jump-powered, and as he is not currently jumping on it, it is most likely unpowered. Unfortunately, it seems as though Zedaph is going to be eating a lot of cold food for a while if he makes it out of this alive, because he’s not going to be jumping on anything with a broken leg.

Despite his punishment for trying to take a cross-section of something that he now knows is probably sentient (oops), he can’t help but want to go back, to learn more. What is the rate of growth of those red vines? Are they all from the same plant? Are they actually sentient, or is the crimson kudzu in possession of an automatic response to attempted harm? Did the vine know it was hitting him off a ledge which would break his leg, or did it just know “whack human away from vine”? Would the vines taste good in soup? Are they flammable? Could Zedaph theoretically knit a fashionable sweater out of them, and if so would the sweater be capable of independent movement?

He is torn from his musings of a wriggly evil sweater by another thrum of pain. He hisses. There’s... more blood than is advisable. Outside of his leg, that is. Inside his leg is likely less than the advisable amount of blood, and come to think of it, his head’s probably a bit empty as well, seeing as how he’s having so much trouble thinking straight-- well, straight for him. His jumps in logic are incomprehensible to most on a good day, but right now even he can’t follow his own thought process. What was he thinking about again?

Ah yes. The overwhelming pain from being yeeted off a ledge. Come to think of it, the ledge he fell off-- the one he’s sitting leaned against-- is shaped awfully unusually. It must be manmade. Whoever made this is not a good terraformer. Zedaph should bake Scar some cookies. Is Scar allergic to peanuts? Ow. Ow. Ow. Zedaph will need to borrow Impulse’s oven-- or he could set up his own oven with an armor stand that jumps for him?

“Hey there, who are you?” says a female voice. Zedaph looks up. He doesn’t have to look very far up.

Standing in front of him is a woman with a cool pirate-looking coat (red, of course; all self-respecting pirates wear red), with long fluffy hair like white wool and rainbow fringe! Oh, and she’s, like, half sheep or something. That’s cool too.

Wait. There’s something about sheep he’s forgetting... How could he have been so stupid?! He came to the surface in the first place in search of a sheep, and now he’s (kind of) found one!

The cool pirate lady says something, but Zedaph-- well, he does hear it, but it doesn’t process. Words are just mouth-sounds. He is in pain.

“Found a sheep,” he mumbles, “Come back to the canyon?”

“You’re hurt, man,” the sheep-pirate-lady says. She has pretty rainbow hair, and the white parts look like clouds.

She laughs. “Thanks.”

Clearly, this woman is a mind-reader! As well as a sheep. Really, two for the price of one. Zedaph isn’t quite sure what to do with a mind-reader, but his head will be much clearer and therefore able to dream up wacky hypotheses once he respawns--

He gasps, jerking forward and choking on his own breath when he remembers the cold truth. Xisuma won’t be able to respawn him, not for several days. Zedaph doesn’t want to spend that long in the void.

“Woah!” the woman exclaims, rushing to steady him. “You look pretty bad, dude. Let’s get you home or something. Where do you live?”

“Canyon,” Zedaph rasps. “I’m not supposed to tell you that, I don’t think. Can’t remember why.”

The nice woman goes very still. “Hey. My name’s Puffy. I’m gonna take you to the canyon. Do you think you can stand if I help you?”

“Puffy..?” Zedaph squints off into the middle distance, trying to remember something. “She’s the person who keeps coming back to that barrel, isn’t she?”

Puffy pulls Zedaph’s arm over her shoulder and gently pulls him up to his feet. “She is,” Puffy says softly.

“I hope she liked the enchanted diamond shears,” he mumbles.

“She did,” Puffy says softly. “She didn’t even know diamond shears were a thing.”

“I was going to make an emerald flint and steel,” Zedaph rambles, “but it turns out that items made of flint and steel aren’t conducive to being made of not-flint and not-steel."

"Who would have thought?" Puffy laughs, then trips over a vine. Zedaph makes a pained noise at the jostle to his leg, which is dragging a bit on the ground because Puffy is so much shorter than him. She notices this, and rethinks her strategy.

"At this rate, we'll never get back to the canyon," she gripes. "Climb on my back instead, I'll carry you."

Zedaph obliges, but warns, "Tango says I'm heavy.”

“I’m stronger than Tango, I’ll bet.”

The Hermit is actually a bit heavy, but this is a matter of pride now. And also, quite possibly a matter of urgency. The Hermit isn’t responding anymore. He’s still holding on, so he isn’t dead or completely unconscious; still, he’s not in a good state.

As soon as the elevator down to the bottom of the canyon comes into view, Puffy books it. Surely, in the canyon base, the Hermit will have healing potions? He (They? Multiple Hermits?) gave her a whole beacon, so obviously he/they are late-game enough to have plenty of potions.

Stepping into the elevator, Puffy presses the button, then puts her hand on the Hermit’s neck. It’s a bit of an awkward position, since his chin is hanging over her shoulder, but it makes her feel better to have a hand on his pulse. He makes a pitiful noise as the elevator descends.

“Easy there,” Puffy says, “you’re almost home.”

The moment the doors open, she ventures out into the village. The only safe place she knows is the barrel where she leaves her items for the Hermit(s), so she takes him there. Now that she’s looking, she spots shadows, eyes, movements, throughout the supposedly empty village. One such person comes out of the woodwork, sprinting.

“Zedaph!” exclaims a tall, musclebound man. His face is twisted in naked worry as he meets Puffy at the barrel, which she sets Zedaph down on.

The large man, who wears a black shirt with a creeper face on it (does that mean something, Puffy wonders?) scrutinizes the blond man on the barrel for a moment before springing into action, splashing potions and bits of lapis and-- holy shit, is that a Totem of Undying?! When the blond man, Zedaph, seems to come back to himself enough that he could reasonably eat a golden carrot with minimal choking hazard, the new man hands him one. Finally, he turns to Puffy.

“Thank you,” he says. The relief in his voice is tangible.

Puffy shifts awkwardly. “I was just doing the right thing. I noticed, uh, his bracelet.”

They both look to Zedaph’s wrist. It’s got a woven bracelet on it. The textile isn’t astounding, but the pattern on it is intricate. Puffy would know, she made it herself as a gift for the Hermit. As Puffy and the other Hermit look at each other, she realizes that he is also wearing something she made: a pair of fingerless gloves which are now stained with redstone dust.

He catches her staring. “We all have one-- oh, uh, my name’s Impulse, and this is Zedaph--”

“Impulse,” a new blond man hisses from behind the two. Puffy jumps. She didn’t hear him coming.

“Tango!” Impulse greets, suddenly nervous. Why a man as big as Impulse would be nervous when facing anyone, let alone a normal-looking guy like Tango, is beyond Puffy. Maybe Tango’s red eyes have some sort of significance?

“Impulse,” Tango repeats, looking around for anyone that isn’t a Hermit. “You’re not invisible.”

Impulse’s eyebrows draw together in a frown. “I had to see Zedaph.”

“Yeahhh,” Zedaph slurs.

“Besides, if we can trust any of the natives, it’s Puffy,” Impulse insists. He crosses his arms in what should be an intimidating display, but truthfully looks more like a pout.

“You know what Xisuma said,” Tango says. “I’m grateful to have Zedaph back, but...”

“Xisuma would agree with me,” Impulse says stubbornly.

Tango sighs explosively, full of nerves. “Alright, fine, can we at least get out of sight? Anyone could come wandering across the surface and spot us.”

“How many of you are there?” Puffy breathes. Everyone’s eyes snap to her.

“Twenty-four,” Zedaph says happily.

“Zedaph!” Tango admonishes.

Rolling his eyes, Impulse scoops Zedaph up off the barrel like he weighs nothing. He carries the dazed blond man down the path and into a cottage-style house. As Tango goes to follow, he catches Puffy’s eye.

“Sorry,” he says, “nothing personal. Just trying to avoid being explodificated, which means not being seen by the people who live on this server. You get it, yeah?”

He jogs off to catch up with Impulse, and Puffy hurriedly follows. Tango’s got a bracelet like Zedaph’s, but it’s one of the ones Puffy made out of different shades of red. She wonders if all the Hermits wear something she made.

The inside of the house is a bit cramped, but it’ll do. It’s got a bed, at least, so Zedaph’s got somewhere to keep his leg off the ground. This all feels surreal.

“So, uh...” Puffy says into the stuffy silence of the room. “How about that, uh, bedrock?”

Nobody has anything to say to that. Fuck.

Out of nowhere, yet another Hermit shows up. There’s a trapdoor in the wall that, now that she looks at it, Puffy realizes that Tango was hiding intentionally. That’s all gone to shit, though, because a man with white hair and a mask over his face peeks his head out from the hole in the wall.

“Hey guys, what--” The man takes a look around, spots Puffy, and freezes. “...On second thought, I’ll come back later.”

“Wait!” Impulse says to the man. “Get Xisuma, or at least tell him Puffy’s here if he can’t make the trip right now.”

“Karl thinks you’re Mothman,” Puffy blurts out to the white-haired man.

The man looks very self-satisfied for someone who’s only showing a quarter of his face. “Oh? Where does he live? For absolutely no reason, of course.”

“Etho...” Tango groans.

“Oh, alright, I’ll go get X.”

The man leaves. Oh boy, thinks Puffy, this is going to be interesting.

#mcyt #hc x dsmp #hermit canyon au #captain puffy #zedaph #zedaphplays #impulsesv #tango tek #xisuma #xisumavoid #ethoslab #me.cpp #me.txt

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

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Filterless

Corpse Husband x Plus-sized Reader (Female)

Warnings: Body Image Insecurities, Low self-esteem, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Feeling comfortable in her skin has hardly ever been the case for Y/N who’s been struggling with body image issues all her life. However, they only get worse when she sees the ‘type’ of girls her crush is into.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your request (hits close to home 😅) I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to fulfill it and post it but here it finally is and if you’ve stuck around long enough to read it, I hope you enjoy! ALSO! - Never forget how beautiful and amazing you are. Never compare your beauty to someone else’s. We’re all beautiful people and we all shine so brightly and uniquely. No one deserves to be compared to anyone when we’re all so different yet so incredible. Love you and appreciate you with all my heart, Vy ❤

If I ever need my ego taken down a few notches - it never does, it’s barely even present, to be honest - all I have to do is go on Instagram. To be honest, regardless of how I’m feeling, opening that app is bound to make my mood plummet and come crashing into the ground so hard it drives a hole in it - probably in the form of a broken heart.

Being a content creator myself, I often get asked questions about my absence on that social platform specifically. I mean, the questions are based and rational I guess, considering I’m not a faceless YouTuber and yet my Instagram account is void of any photos. It’s not like I don’t post at all - I do! I post on my story often but it’s more often than not scenery I find pretty or a poster I’ve made for a movie/video game. Bottom line is: I barely ever allow a picture of me to make it online. The most my fans are ever gonna get of me is a selfie which is also a super rare occurrence because of how long it takes me to take and choose one I don’t hate.

Ok, but how am I supposed to find the motivation to post any sort of picture of myself when on my timeline I’m always faced with people worthy of posting pictures of themselves. People with such perfect bodies and beautiful faces. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not jealous or envious of those people - good for them! They know what they’re working with and they’re working it well. I have nothing against them, in fact, I love seeing people proud of their bodies no matter their size, shape or weight. Those are my role-models: people who are proud of themselves, their bodies, their attributes and capabilities and don’t hesitate to show them off. Those are the people I look up to but, deep down inside I know I’ll never be like.

Insecure about my body, having been referred to as ‘chubby’ and ‘squishy’ all my life. Inappreciative of the stuff I do: starting from my job as a graphic designer leading towards my job on YouTube - nothing I do, professionally or otherwise, satisfies me. Nothing I do is enough in my eyes because I feel incapable of ever being able to do enough. I’ve been called lazy and a half-asser a few too many times to be able to brush it off as a meaningless insult.

With these problems I’ve had with myself and my own perception of who I am and the work I do, I’ve never had the time for romance or romantic relationships. I second-guess the intentions of everyone who ever shows any interest in me because in my mind I’m nothing special and I have nothing to offer - nothing attractive or likable at least. That being said, I haven’t even been one to make heart eyes at others either. I busy myself with my job and some side-gigs, brushing off any relationship questions with the excuse that I’m ‘just too busy to be in a relationship’ which is technically true.

Having spent twenty plus years with that mindset, one can imagine how surprised I was when I found myself catching feelings for someone. And that someone just couldn’t be any other than the biggest YouTube sensation at the moment - Corpse Husband.

I’m close friends with Poki - her and I were roommates at one point too - so her inviting me to play Among Us with them wasn’t so strange. One or two games, I thought, nothing unusual there, just friendly curtesy. I wasn’t expecting to warm up to the group of famous streamers nor did I expect them to welcome me among them so easily, mostly because my channel is so small and practically invisible to the YouTube algorithm. But soon enough, I became a permanent member of the team, making friends with every single one of those YouTubers I practically thought of a celebrities.

This journey of branching out to other content creators has proven itself to be surprisingly pleasant and has packed my book of friendships to the brim. All of that came unexpectedly, along with a wave of new subs and a higher view count. However, as I mentioned, it hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows. I came to finally understand what my high school friends were talking about when they were head over heels for a boy - the butterflies in the stomach whenever he speaks your name; the importance of the laugh you share with him, how special and different it is; how cool it is to be impostors with him - ok they never said that, obviously, but it’s what I have as a substitute to the ‘when the two of you make eye-contact’ bullshit since Corpse and I have never seen each other in person. That is, of course, because of him being a faceless YouTuber and me being a self-conscious and insecure girl.

We do talk all the time though - texting, calling, chilling on Discord, you name it. Our conversations range from deeply philosophical to ones that might mislead someone into thinking we’re high. There’s no topic we haven’t touched upon and yet we still manage to find something new to talk about. We have plenty of similarities but we also never seem to run out of differences we slowly come across as we keep getting to know each other better and better.

And somewhere along that journey I ended up catching feelings.

Human nature of wanting to connect with other people, I curse you for what you’ve done to me.

You might think I’m being overdramatic about the whole ordeal and that this is just a normal, natural occurrence many people experience in their life - some even daily. Well, not only am I far from used to it, but it’s also taking a toll of a different kind on me.

It’s like a constant slap to the face.

That slap turned into a punch when Corpse and I started following each other on Instagram and I started getting daily reminders of how out of my depth I am with this crush on him. In over my head, especially when you look at all those girls whose pics and videos he reposts on his story. Imagine how that makes me feel, what that does to me - puts me back into the ‘Constantly not good enough‘ basket, the one I’ve been fighting to get out of all my life. In the past and in different contexts I could easily say that it was all just my mind hating me intensely but now - now that I know for a fact I’m not good enough and don’t fit Corpse’s criteria - it hurts ten times as much. I’m not one to do shit for someone’s attention or to attract someone’s eyes, but it really hurts my feelings. Often times, it also leads me to doing dumb things and making rash decisions.

Like the one I made two days ago.

Imagine me cringing and shaking my head at my own stupidity as I admit this: I, in a frenzy, ordered a whole e-girl getup with overnight delivery.

Wait, hold up, it gets worse.

I received it yesterday and spent the whole day regretting that decision, but then, in my most insecure hours - which was somewhere around midnight - I equipped the get-up, took a picture and posted it on my Instagram page. First full body pic I’ve ever posted on there. First pic I’ve posted there of any kind. There to stay, not to be gone in twenty four hours. First pic, and it’s not even of me. It’s of who I want to be in order to fit someone’s criteria. And that fucking stings.

As you might imagine, I’ve spent today’s day regretting that decision as well. Recently my mood’s been nothing but regretting rash decisions that have surfaced under the influence of my ridiculous, constantly-present insecurities. And I would’ve probably gotten over it rather quickly had I not received a message from Corpse that read:

“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic“

I didn’t open the message, I peeped at it as it was a notification on my lock screen. It’s still there, an unread notification. It’s been two hours since I received it and I cannot think of a single thing to say in response to that.

Truth is, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of so many things right now.

I’m afraid of becoming that girl in the photo, cause I’m most definitely not her.

I’m afraid of letting Corpse down by admitting I’m not her.

I’m afraid of what my own mind has made me do because it hates me so much and I’m terrified of what it might do in the future.

I’m afraid and stranded on things to do.

You can’t be her forever, you know. Being her won’t make your insecurities go away, it’ll only make them worse. Haven’t you learned that by now?

I sigh, frustrated and irritated with myself as I grab my phone and tap on the notification, finally deciding to face the music and allow my instincts to carry me through the interaction. Improvisation, that’s one of the few things I’m good at. Let’s hope it doesn’t fail me.

I’m just about to type out my response - not sure what it’s gonna say - when I give the message Corpse has sent me a second glance. I furrow my brows, finding there’s more to it than that peep through the notification let me see.

“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic. You’re personality is so bright and colorful, I could’ve never imagined you were into the darks and blacks“

Because I’m not

I fail to realize until the message has been sent that my thoughts are exactly what I typed out and sent.

And honestly, I’m glad. It feels like I’ve spoken my truth, like I’ve lifted a huge boulder off my chest.

With that rare confidence in mind I go on and delete the picture.

In its spot, I post a picture I just now took - a mirror selfie in my homey get-up consisting of hot pink sweatpants and an oversized blue tee, my hair in a messy bun, my face free of make-up.

I caption it: ‘Oops, had the e-girl filter on for the last one. This is filterless me tho so...Hi 🥴’

A lot better, I’m surprised to hear my inner voice say. I hope I don’t get used to all this kindness on my brain’s part, probably won’t last, but damn if I don’t milk every second of it.

Just then, I receive a new message from non other than Corpse.

“Now that’s the girl I see when I think of you. She’s super cute 😉“

My, oh my, who would’ve guessed Corpse has a game like that - and by that I mean the ability to make me blush so intensely with only a text message.

Now ain’t that better than being someone else, Y/N?

It sure is, it sure is.

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steadydescentintomadness · 3 years

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Doing something I don’t ~think~ I’ve done before. I’m posting a snippet/sneak preview. It’s not edited or proofread, but I’ve been writing angsty Doc (in regards to Lion and the incident in Nigeria), and I’ve been having way too much fun with it, so I thought I’d share a little bit.

Update: completed version here x.

Bitter, cool winds whipped at his throbbing face, aggravating the still open cuts and raw scrapes on his skin and lips. It lashed at his eyes as well. Fuel to a fire already causing water to bead in the corners, and then as if on a precipice, every ounce of composure plunged in a free fall. His lip, split and starting to scab over, quivered. His vision blurred; the grass, the colourless, cloud-ridden skies, and even the ground under his feet—nothing but a mess of lifelessness. His head sunk, face hiding in shadows and disheveled hair, and the tears finally broke free. He wrenched his eyes shut, and hot trails streamed down his sore face.

Why did he get to decide whether they lived or died?

Why were their lives deemed an acceptable loss?

Why?

Gustave shook his head. “They didn’t have to die.”

Taina inched closer while still allowing space between her and him with his defeated posture. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know,” he muttered to no one and for no reason in particular. “It’s been years. He’s been here for over a year.”

You should be used to this by now, something deep inside reprimanded him. You should be over this by now.

Such a myth—that time could heal all wounds. It couldn’t. Could it lessen them? Sometimes. Could it erase them? Never. Scars remained. Aching memories, echoes of pain, they were always there buried under the surface. Only oblivion could erase those wounds. The void. And a thousand thoughts ripped off invisible scabs of bloody, bloodless wounds.

For over a year and a half, Olivier Flament had been a Team Rainbow operator. A privilege, an honour. And Gustave couldn’t help but wonder if without that choice—without those actions in Nigeria that killed someone so dear to him and ended so many other valuable lives—would that still be the case? Sealing the fate of medics and nurses in the throes of an epidemic had gotten him employed with an elite international counterterrorist unit, and it had placed Olivier directly into a position where he could do it again. Where one choice could leave someone else dead. Who will be the next victim of Olivier Flament’s choices?

His Rainbow colleagues?

His other GIGN friends?

The ones dearest to him?

“Sometimes I look at him, and all I see are their faces,” he whispered, unsure of where his voice had returned from. It was broken and cracking on syllables beyond all control. “I don’t know. I know he will never regret it.”

“He might—”

“He won’t,” Gustave blurted, head shooting up and eyes narrowed at Taina for reasons he couldn’t explain.

Brows furrowed and face blank, Taina’s lips shifted, jaw adjusting. Biting the inside of her cheek. A nervous tick he had observed from her on more than one occasion. Her chest rose, lungs inflating with air, and then she huffed out a discontented sigh, shoulders slumping the entire time. The wind whisked dark locks across her face. Perfect for avoiding his stare. Taina was far from the optimist—especially out of the two of them—but maybe it was less a matter of her giving Lion the benefit of the doubt and more giving him some kind of hope to cling on to.

At that thought, Gustave shook his head again. I don’t need it.

Hacking a cough to clear his throat, he wiped the scowl from his face and forced a meek smile instead. “And I know I’ll never forgive him, and perhaps that’s simply the way things will always remain. Fights and all. No matter how many joint sessions Harry makes us have.”

His lids sealed shut once more. Their surroundings, completely blacked out until the hot burning sensation subsided and the last surge of tears had concluded. One deep breath in, and his head shot up and his eyes slipped open. The wind heaved and tugged on the trees in the distance. Their greenish yellow-touched leaves shuddered upon every gust. Dark tufts of clouds swirled through the atmosphere. Ominous and a sickly grey. He forced his mind to focus once more on the patter-patter of rain rather than the savage thumping of blood crashing through his veins. Pulverizing him with every heartbeat.

Thump. Failure.

Thump. Death.

Thump. Hatred.

Thump.

#rainbow six #r6 #rainbow six siege #r6s #gustave kateb #r6s doc #olivier flament #r6s lion #taina pereira #r6s caveira #writing #snippet #angst

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puckinghell · 4 years

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11:11 | Carter Hart

Summary: Hockey players are a little superstitious, so wishing on shooting stars, rainbows and dropped penny’s isn’t a rare occurrence. Normally, they’re wishing for things like wins and awards and cups, but Carter has a little something else on his wishlist. Words: 2,5k Note: based on the song 11:11 by Jae Jin which is the cutest songs I’ve ever heard. Note 2.0: This has been sitting in my concepts for over a year cause I just don’t love it but I like it too much to throw it away, so I finally decided to just post it and be done with it. Hope you guys like it anyway!

---

It’s a well known fact that hockey players are superstitious.

It’s a better known fact that hockey goalies are stupidly superstitious.

So far, Carter has been trying to break the stigma, and he’s pretty damn good at it, thank you very much. He doesn’t care if he puts on his left or right skate first, he doesn’t have to turn the shower on and off twice, there’s no pregame meal better than others. Winning games depends on how well he’s playing, not on setting his alarm at 4:32 when he takes his pregame nap.

Carter isn’t superstitious, but he is a little stitious - and he’s watched The Office way too many times, clearly. There’s just one thing he can be superstitious about. Only one thing.

You.

---

You’ve been sitting on your porch, sketchbook in hand, drawing your neighbor’s dog. He’s big and black and at 11 years old, you’re not really sure if you’re supposed to be scared of him. He looks a bit scary, but he’s never done anything bad, and your parents don’t seem to mind him.

It’s hot outside. Too hot, really, to be outside your air conditioned living room, but your brothers are yelling inside and you just wanted some peace and quiet.

Some peace and quiet, and to stare at the boy next door.

He’s a little older than you, a lot taller too, and he’s always intimidated you a bit. Sometimes he hangs out with your brothers, who are older too, but today he’s with some boys from around the neighborhood.

They’re playing street hockey, like they usually are. You like watching them play; it’s such a fun game to watch, and you really wish you could try it, see if it’s fun to play too.

But your brothers always tell you to go away, and you’ve not had the guts to ask Carter. That’s the boy next door’s name; you heard it one time when his mom called him in for dinner.

You’re focused on where the dog’s ears meet his head - on your paper it doesn’t quite look right - when something goes flying past your head.

“Duck!” you hear someone yell, but you’d already ducked in reflex. A plastic ball comes zooming past your ear, hits the wall behind you and bounces back; it rolls past your feet and ends up in front of somebody else’s.

“Are you okay?” the same voice asks, a little worried, and when you look up it’s Carter staring at you with wide eyes. “Did he hit you?”

It takes a while for his words to synch into your brain, but then you shake your head. “No, he didn’t.”

Carter smiles, at that. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I’ve told Alex his aim is so bad he shouldn’t be allowed to play in public, but he didn’t believe me.”

The other guy, Alex you presume, comes running over, his hockey stick still in his hands. “Shit, sorry,” he says, and you’re pretty sure you’re not allowed to say that word but you don’t mention it.

“It’s okay,” you say instead. “You didn’t hit me.”

“Maybe keep an eye on the clock,” says Carter to his friend. “If it’s 11:11, you can wish to actually hit the target, some time.”

“If you catch 11:11 you can wish to actually make a save,” Alex shoots back.

“If I caught 11:11 I would wish for you to shut up,” Carter snaps back and that’s when you giggle.

Instantly, both the boys turn to you. Carter is grinning at you, a wide and happy grin that makes it impossible for you not to grin back. “What would you wish for, if you caught 11:11?” he asks.

You know the answer; it’s right there on the tip of your tongue and it tumbles out with thinking, words filled with earnest honesty like only those of a kid can be.

“I would wish that I could play hockey.”

The boy in front of you smiles, yanks the hockey stick out of his friend’s hands and extends it in your direction.

“Come play,” he says. “It’s not like you could be any worse than Alex, anyway.”

And under loud protest of Alex, a new friendship is born.

---

Your 16th birthday party is crazy exactly the way 16th birthday parties are supposed to be, with beers snuck into the kitchen as your parents go away for the night, telling you again and again that you can always call them if you need them, even if you think they’ll be mad.

There’s loud music everywhere, and people; you don’t even know half of them, but your brothers promised you they’d make it a party to remember and they’ve kept their promise.

The thing is, well, you’re not the biggest fan of parties, actually. You thought it would be cool, would be like in the movies and you’d feel all grown up and cool, but instead you feel a bit lost, with the noise of the people too loud and their drunken dancing having you worried about your parents furniture.

You also found out you really don’t like beer.

You get a Pepsi from the fridge, where some friend of your brother’s is mixing some of your dad’s rum into a bottle of Sprite - it doesn’t seem like a good match, but then again, you’ve never tasted rum - while your brother is eating cheese straight from the packet.

It’s all a bit too much, too sudden, and you find yourself yearning for some peace and quiet, some familiarity.

You make your way to the back yard; it’s quiet, there, the October air a little too cold for your guests, and you sit down on the porch, wrapping your arms around your knees.

The music booms through the walls and you can still hear people screaming, but it sounds more muffled, and it allows you to breathe.

Almost immediately after you sit down, you hear the creak of the backdoor and footsteps against the wood of the porch, and then a familiar body sits next to you, smelling like foresty cologne and floral laundry detergent.

“Hey,” Carter says softly, smiling at you when you gaze up at him. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just needed some quiet.” You take a deep breath. “It’s a bit too much, I guess.”

Carter is your best friend; has been, for years, and you would trust him with literally anything, so you don’t hesitate, telling him the truth. You don’t think there’s anything you’ve not told him the truth on.

Except when he asked you why you never said yes to the boys asking you out on dates.

First, you’d tried to dodge, told him you never got asked, but that didn’t work because James had asked and you’d shot him down, and James was on the hockey team with Carter so obviously Carter had found out.

When he confronted you with that, you just shrugged.

“Just not into it, Cart.”

Because they’re not you. I would say yes if it was you. But those are words only meant for your own ears, words your heart utters into the silent void because there’s no way your brain would even let you say them out loud, not when it could ruin the best friendship you have.

“You know,” Carter says now, “maybe we see a shooting star. Then you could still make your birthday wish.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “What are you on about?”

He laughs, lightly. “I saw you when you blew out your candles, on the cake, earlier. You were super quick with it, there’s no way you made a wish.”

It earns him an eye roll, from you.

“Maybe I didn’t wanna make a wish. Maybe there’s nothing I wish for.”

“Everyone has something they wish for,” says Carter wisely. He bumps your shoulder and then frowns, suddenly. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re freezing.”

You put your hands on your own arms, wrap your arms around yourself, to feel that indeed your skin is cold and there’s goosebumps on your arms. Before you can comment on it, Carter has taken off his hoodie and is tugging it - not so carefully - over your head.

“Auw,” you whine, “you’re pulling my hair.”

He immediately stops, then very slowly pulls the fabric down the rest of the way. It’s worse, that way, makes it feel more intimidate than it is.

“Well,” you say finally, “there’s no shooting stars, so I guess no wish for me, this year.”

Carter sighs, sounding defeated, then glances at his watch and his whole face lights up.

“It’s 11:10! You can make a wish at 11:11!”

You can’t help but giggle at his excitement. “Cart, that doesn’t even have anything to do with my birthday.”

“No,” says Carter, talking slow, as if he’s explaining something to a toddler. “They’re more special. Everyone gets a birthday wish, because everyone has a birthday. Not everyone catches the 11:11, though. That’s the universe telling you it’s your turn for a little bit of luck.”

It’s dumb, and you don’t believe it, but he says it so adorably convinced, that when he motions at his watch that it’s time, you close your eyes and make a wish.

It’s fine if the wish will never come true. As long as it makes the tall, slender boy next to you happy, the way he does you.

---

Carter’s first year as a Flyer is stressful.

You get to watch it from up close cause you followed him to Philly; there was never really an option not to. You know, after years of searching for something else, someone else that makes you feel the way he does, that it’s a lost cause.

It’s him, for you. It’s always been him.

You’re driving to his apartment, the night of what you knew has been a hard game. They lost, again. You know Carter will - wrongfully - blame himself, again. You know you’re gonna do whatever it takes to pick up the pieces, again, and probably fail, again.

Maybe Carter’s stupid goalie superstition has rubbed off on you, but when you drive through a tunnel, you hold your breath until the end of it.

Let him be okay.

His front door creaks as you open it; he gave you a key as soon as he moved in, and you’ve been using it ever since. You don’t even think you know what his doorbell sounds like.

“Carter?” you call out. You know he’s not asleep; he never sleeps well, after losses. It takes him ages, tossing and turning in his sheets until he just gives up and sits on the balcony, staring at the stars.

He says it calms him down.

You’re pretty sure you know where to find him.

“Cart?” you mutter, opening the balcony door carefully, and indeed, there’s a human figure slumped over the railing, head down, hands tucked into the sleeves of his hoodie. At your voice, he looks up, and you’re struck with how tired he looks.

Dark circles surround his bright eyes, which seem to light up the dark night as much as the city lights below you.

You go stand next to him, close enough for your shoulders to touch; warmth is still radiating off him, his cheeks are flushed.

“I don’t get what you’re looking at, here,” you tell him, giving him time to decide whether or not he wants to talk about the game. You know he doesn’t do well when you push him. “You can’t even see the stars. The city lights are way too bright.” You crinkle your nose in disgust. “The stars were so much more beautiful back home.”

“Do you miss home?” Carter asks.

You shrug. “Sometimes. Some things. You?”

“I miss my family.” Carter pauses. “Not home, so much. I thought I would, but, the one part I thought I’d miss the most...” Another pause, then a tentative smile. “Well, she followed me here.”

Your heart flutters at that and you have to remind yourself that he’s just in a mushy mood, probably trying to hide his emotions about the game.

But you still wanna let him know you appreciate it, and you feel the same, so you lean closer, letting your head drop to his shoulder. Right away, his head is resting on top of yours.

“Can you wish on city lights?” you ask, just to fill the quiet night, and he chuckles.

“Probably not, but I don’t think I’ll need the stars to wish on. I make wishes when I hold my breath in tunnels, when I throw pennies in wells, when I blow out candles...”

“There’s no wells around here,” you interrupt, and you feel Carter’s shoulders shake with muted laughter. It’s so much better than the sad expression he wore when you got here, and you feel the brick that’s settled in the pit of your stomach since you saw the score, slightly dissipate.

“I think it’s probably around 11,” says Carter, then. “If we catch it, we can make another wish.”

You know what you would wish for; the same thing you’ve been wishing for for 8 years. You also know you might as well be wishing for the sky to turn purple, so you’re not really too worried about catching 11:11.

“What do you wish for, anyway?” you ask him. He turns slightly, so he’s facing you now, and incredulous look on his face.

“You really don’t know?” he says. “It’s the same thing, every time.”

“How would I know?” you huff. “You’ve never told me.”

“Guess.”

You don’t see the fun in this game but you’d do anything to see him smile, anything to keep his mind off the game, so you humor him.

“Stanley Cup.”

“No.”

“Vezina?”

“Nope.”

“World peace.” Carter seems like that guy.

“No, but I would, if I thought it was possible.”

“A puppy.”

He laughs. “No, but I should.”

“I don’t know, Cart,” you tell him, smiling now. You expect him to say something silly, but a serious expression crosses his face, and then his hands come down and grab hold of your hips. He takes a step closer and your breath hitches in your throat.

“What...” are you doing, you start, but he interrupts you.

“When I wish on 11:11, I’m wishing for you.”

His lips touch yours before you’ve processed the words, but as soon as you realize what’s happening, you hook your arms behind his neck, push up on your tiptoes to kiss him deeper.

You try to put everything you have into that kiss; try to tell him, wordlessly, that you wanna grow old together, wanna be his person, want him to stay with you even when you’re scared, that you think he’s beautiful and magical and everything you could ever wish for.

That every time you wish on shooting stars and ticking clocks, you’re wishing for him too.

“I think we might’ve missed 11:11,” is the first thing you say when you finally pull apart, breathing a little heavily, Carter’s cheeks tinted a little pink.

He breathes out a chuckle, rests his forehead against yours.

“That’s okay,” he says.

“I’ve got all I’d wish for right here.”

#carter hart #philadelphia flyers #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #carter hart imagine #philadephia flyers imagine

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thedumbguywithaheart43 · 3 years

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Boomlord weird adventure

Chapter 8 what time is it?

It was early morning in the omnispace void. Boomwood had gotten to the kitchen to start brewing coffee as the footsteps of a yawning purple hair woman enter the room."morning Twilight."Twilight mearly gave him a wave before sitting down. Looked at her noticing the look on her face. To be honest she looked exhausted.'ah shit'he quickly poured a shot glass of the Cuban coffee and handed it to her. She stared at the coffee for a minute."I appreciate the gesture but I doubt this is going to do much for me."good Lord gave out a chuckle."Twilight trust me this is Cuban coffee any more than this and you'll be wired."He gave out a chuckle before Twilight downed the shot, unsurprisingly her face scrunched up. This was probably the most bitter thing she ever had."bleh! Why would you drink something so bitter!"Boomlord shrugged."honestly I only drink it for the caffeine. If it helps I think I have some orange juice in the fridge."Twilight just looked down rubbing her head . Not long after the other girls walked in each of them heading into the fridge grabbing various fruits mostly apples. Pinkie pie was the only one who grabbed something else, looks like she found the flan and was in heaven."oh my Celestia this tastes so good!"At least she wasn't breaking the fourth wall again.

2 After everyone ate they all headed to the living room again."ok girls this is it we are heading to the next world. Now before I go this mission is not meant to be dangerous however the world we're entering can be a bit chaotic so be prepared for anything."The rest of the girls nodded they likely had assumed as much from the previous conversations."so where are we going anyway"dash blurted out as boom pulled out his pen."yeah I'm with Dash partner id hate to go in blind."Aj took a step forward to make her point."we're going to a place called ooo I spent a lot of time there and it's the only place I can really say I have friends anymore...."booms voice got deep as a sorrowful look overtook his face for a minute. This was enough to make Applejack back off. Twilight in particular took a mental note of this.'guess friends are a touchy subject for him.' boom grabbed his notepad An drew another circle, in the center he wrote °adventure Time 1°as always the golden electrical ring formed with a blackened middle. Boomlord jumped into the portal and when he landed his feet were on solid ground. Solid green grassy ground. He surveyed the area around him noticing he was in a grassy clear field however the ends of what looks like old nuclear bombs stuck out overtaken by the grassy plains. The girls enter next each of them still in their same outfits however 4 of the girls had notable changes to them . Twilight and rarity each had a sword at their side. Twilight sword with a sleek and purple short sword with her cutie mark on the hilt. Rarity sword on the other hand looked as if it were made of blue crystal with a white metal hilt her cutie mark also on it. Fluttershy and rainbow Dash had also had the return of their wings which Dash took this opportunity to fly up into the air a bit doing a few loops and swirls."Hell yeah I missed this!"boom couldn't help but smile."Real fly girl up there."a few of them awkwardly smile."so where's our destination?"Twilight asked giving him a quick grin knowing that he's trying his best to make everyone feel better about being in a strange world."we're going to see princess bubblegum at the Candy Kingdom."and just like that he found himself lying on the ground being pinned by pinkie pie."DID YOU SAY CANDY KINGDOM! A KINGDOM MADE OF CANDY IS THIS PLACE PARADISE O.M.C O.M.C."Twilight practically had to pry pinky off of him ."yes the entire Kingdom from the trees to the ground is made of candy including the people."He started to brush himself off as pinky smile only widen."but please don't eat the Candy people or I will probably have to stop you"pinky reluctantly nodded.

3"rainbow do you mind taking an aerial view try to find the place that looks like it's surrounded by Pink cotton candy trees.... Well because it is surrounded by Pink cotton candy trees."boom called out before stopping looking at the ground a large Shadow now loomed over them. It was Spike. All the ponies turn to look back in both shock and horror. Spike mostly remain the same with one slight difference... He was absolutely Giant. His whole body in total was about the size of a two sorry house and his wings could probably cover all of them with ease."oh yeah I forgot dragons are huge here but at least he still looks different from them normally they're just Giant tube dragons with big ass butts."The ponies/girls stared for a moment but in silent agreement they chose not to address it not that Spike would mind he was too busy checking himself out."oh crap I'm HUGE you guys look so small from up here!" It was the most adorable giant grin in the world. Rainbow decided now was a good time to take him to the air as she being flapping her wings disappearing above the clouds. Surveying the land below she was able to make out what looks like pink trees and a large structure that looked somewhat like a castle."guess that must be what I'm looking for."she kept looking around noticing in One direction was a rather large tree that almost looks like it had Windows in it and in the opposite direction she noticed tall mountains made entirely of ice."heh heh heh what do we have here"a voice from nowhere stated in a malicious tone from behind her. Is she turned to look behind her she saw a giant monster with a bat like face and long blue limbs with crooked nails.'OH SHIT'at this point rainbow Dash started nose diving down towards her friends with the creature in pursuit who was maliciously chuckling the entire way down. The rest of the group saw the creature and the girls had various reactions. Applejack rarity and Twilight look like they were getting ready to fight with rarity and Twilight pulling out their swords. Fluttershy and Pinky had decided to stick near Spike who is now using his wings to shield them.Then there was boom standing out in the open as dash passed him and he just smiled. Apon seeing him the creature stopped a look of surprise on our face."hey Marceline it's been a while"the creature began to shrink taking on a human form she had pale white skin and incredibly long black hair which reached down to her feet a simple jacket and jeans and her ,guitar-axe strapef to her back and a nice big floopy hat which covered her in a shroud of darkness. She give out a wide smile revealing her fangs before wrapping her arms around boom giving him a hug."holy glob dude!your back it's been like 4 months!"he returned the embrace from his old friend as the rest of the girls started to calm down noticing that whatever that thing was it seemed friendly at least now it did."oh that's right."he turned to the girls and dragon."everyone this is my old friend Marceline... The vampire queen"a few of the girls jaw started to drop."your freinds with a literal blood sucking vampire?"Marceline shrugged at Twilight comment."actually it's just the color I'm after."Marceline started floating on her back around them."so boom what brings you and your new friends back to ooo."Boomlord got quiet."I found it Marcy.... I found the Rose fire and they're here because Twilight here"pointing at the slightly flustered purple pony girl."is the key to everything."Marceline stopped moving for a moment the words settling in her mind."oh we need to get to the Candy Kingdom right away then."then without word Marceline started floating off towards the direction of the Kingdom and boom followed along with the girls and the giant dragon...... Yeah that might be a problem.

4 After a few hours of walking they all managed to reach the candy kingdom with Spike deciding to hide in the trees to avoid unwanted attention. Pinkie pie look like she was about to go crazy or more crazy."o.m.c so m-much candy!"she was practically foaming at the mouth."look pinky just eat the sidewalk or something just please don't start eating random people I don't want to deal with any drama today especially because we need the princess's help."the pony started walking forward into the rather nice town and to boomlord credit every building and every person was made of candy, And many candies citizens passed by. Mr cupcake crunchy punch bowl guy."wow this is actually really fascinating I can't help but wonder what they're DNA is like how do candy people procreate do they need to breathe or eat its quite fascinating"Twilight then begin rambling about a whole bunch of science jargon that boom did not know but he found himself listening to every word she spoke it wasn't until arsenaline tapped his shoulder that he snapped out of his trance."I see you found a real good friend~"she whispered in a teasing tone."w-what no she's just um cool you know for someone who was a horse the other day."Marceline rolled her eyes."horse or not you always did have a thing for a Smart ones~."boom felt his blood pump. "Oh you're one to talk."Marceline then backed off she knew how far she could go before boom would made her regret it. After a while of walking the group then found themselves at the castle as a pink cared and pink skinned princess in a long pink dress noticed them."oh my! Boom you have returned and with.. many female companions huh"princess bubblegum gave a smirk."oh don't you start now too!" Boom was probably going to say more before pb gave him a warm hug."so I assume this has to do with the rose fire."bubblegum look down at him and while she kept a smile her face was full of worry."yeah Twilight here um it's kind of a long story."bubblegum nodded."it always is."about an hour had passed after this meeting and boom had explained to Marceline and bubblegum how we came to meet the girls and discover the fire leaving out the parts where he burned himself or threw a skillet at Twilight."interesting I'll probably have to run a few scans on Twilight then with her permission."Twilight nodded."good we'll start by using the rejuvenation tank to monitor your body and vitals while I conduct a few scans"boom notice that she was pointing to the large tank filled with water and knew that this meant that Twilight was going to have to strip down which he then took his cue to leave. "I'll be back soon gonna check on stuff."and before anyone could say anything he left the room.

(oh and before I forget I'll be opening asks for boomlord and Friends so if they appear in the story feel free to ask them a question ask box is officially open)

#mlp fandom #adventure time #fanfic #writing #pinkie pie #twilight sparkle #applejack #rainbow dash #fluttershy #comedy #slightly saucy

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spacegaywritings · 4 years

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Hello, we are the Neighbours - 2 (final) “Starry Night”

Summary: Virgil uses she/her and he/him. Remy uses he/him. Emile uses they/fae. Logan uses they/them Tags: a LOT of swearwords, edginess, Teenagers scare the living shit out of me, edibles, mentions of getting high, marijuana (implied), questionable living conditions, stress, insomnia/sleeplessness, crappy parents, (depression?) SOFT SIBLING MOMENT (analogical)

Tumblr: previous // ao3 : 1 / 2 . ALL // masterlist //

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Story under the cut:

Virgil hugged his stupid friend closer, his face buried in the mess of Remy’s pastel purple sweater.

She was basically wearing nothing but a big army jacket and boxers, herself. The pinkish scars on her chest were fainting with time but still showing after all these months.

Remy was at least in a skirt longer than usual - this one actually covered his ass completely. Instead of big boots, he had white summer slippers one. He almost looked like a ballerina with his long legs, small-ish statue and flawless skin.

The sun slowly sunk down the horizon while the two cuddled.

“You know, you are almost out of there, anyway. It does not matte. You got so far, Virgil. You will get through this too, with or without me.”

She shook her head ever so slightly, her pumpkin hair curling over his shoulder. He had recently dyed it again.

Every now and then Virgil was forced into self-care. That meant Remy would drag him over to his place, give him a little bit of wellness time such as doing face masks and painting his nails. Of course, he would also give her a dye-job when necessary or just wanted. Remy was rather good at it after all. Without him, Virgil would not take such care of himself. It was all Remy’s doing.

“Nu. I will strike. I am not gonna do shit without you. I don’ wanna.”

She mumbled silently, gently hugging Remy closer. He carefully held the feral bastard close.

“You have to. You can do it. If I don’t get in, I will find work where you live and we can move in together and I will clean for you, so you and Logan don’t die.”

The smaller one curled up, his knees pressing against his chest as he put his weight against Remy in ever-persistent patience. A little snort escaped her after all.

When he was not an anxious mess, he got to be more than just the calming friend but also the braincell of the group. He was rational and got things together. No wonder he applied for studies in mechanics.

“You would do that..?”

Virgil pulled back a bit, yet still remained in her little ball of limbs. He was barely covered with his short pants in their plaid pattern. The big jacket was so drastically oversized, Virgil was sitting on it since its length clearly exceeded his height. It was supposed to be worn by someone else so it would not cover them down to their thighs.

Remy gently brushed over his shoulder.

“I would do whatever to be with your sorry ass. If you live on your own and gotta take care of another living being, you will probably just die, like, instantly. You are so fucking oblivious and sensitive after all.��

He gently nudged her.

“Be my wife.”

Remy felt heat rise in his chest. He vehemently shook his head, his stomach fuzzy all of a sudden. Thousands of little feathers tickled him from inside and his cheeks reddened to match his heated blood.

If he did not know better, he would have said that he had done no more but choked on his spit.

“Virgil!”

The illegal little potion of bitter rage hugged him against the playful struggles and shoves from his side.

“Shut up-”, he demanded squeakily, “I am not gonna be anyone’s fucking wife, I am a qUeEN.”

His voice broke at the last word, delicately proving his point in being true royalty of great manners and high levels of taste.

Remy was a true piece of art and he was, as he often repeated, “a luxury few could afford.”

A pair of headlights glanced onto their backs, lighting up the scene when the whole sky was turning dark. Their shadows were drawn out before them, making Remy shrink in on himself and look back to check who or what was approaching them.

The running car engine they could hear made it evident that this was a person rolling around in a vehicle.

Who?

Virgil pushed Remy down onto their blanket, carefully trapping him below her.

“Hey, Em, come in and hurry, we can sacrifice him right now while he is still a virgin!”

Remy threw his hands into Virgil’s face. Ungodly screeches escaped his throat as he pushed and grabbed and tore at the untouchable bastard of humankind.

“You fucking wish! Stop projecting your assless life onto me!”

Finally, Remy pushed his knees into Virgil’s guts and pushed the idiot off his shoulders. Emile had finally gotten out of the car, basket under their arm and a blanket pressed against heir chest.

“Hey, save some dumbassery for me!”, fae complained as they plopped down between the two. Honestly, they felt like those kind of people everyone would comment on about how much they behaved like an old, married couple.

Not that they were wrong.

“I am not duuuumb!”, Remy whined.

He sat up again, shoulders quickly pressing against Emile’s who got comfortable. That bastard was really out there, fucking wearing a leather-like jacket with spikes and shit. He could see the colours on the dark material and could only assume faem to have customised the article.

They were the only one to have covered legs. Black ripped-jeans hugged their endlessly long walking sticks and their feet were covered in worn-out sneakers. Void of any big brand names or associations, of course.

Probably all of this was either made by private businesses, friends, faerself or smaller companies barely anyone knew about.

“Emile, put some sense into her! He is being a real bitch again”

Virgil blew raspberries to the complainer and immediately threw his legs over Emile’s inviting lap.

“If you got an issue with cuddles, you better go and sit on his side”, she challenged silently. Emile did not budge, much to his delight.

“Good bean.”

The newby commented with a little chuckle, gently drawing Emile in by putting one arm around him.

“I got ya two cuties some drinks on the way here. Who wants the coffee and who wants the cotton candy pink whatever capitalism-victim? You two definitely need something to suck on.”

Virgil waved his arms around, stimmy hands flapping like birds’ wings. His long sleeves smacked themselves due to them exceeding his fingers. Her heart was fluttering in sudden excitement. He was aflame like a bunch of dry grass set on fire.

“YES! Gimme gimmeee gimmeeeee!! I want the caffeine!”

She pointed at the basket and reached for it but Remy quickly smacked their sleeves away.

“You are not getting any fucking caffeine, you half-dead junkie zombie, you”, Remy cursed. In a flare of problem-solving skills, he pulled the basket closer, just out of reach from the slightly shorter idiot. He grabbed the caffeine-packed cup of ice-cold sin.

Fae blinked, unimpressed, “Just hand me the chocolate one. Pink unicorn is for our rainbow bunny, then.”

Remy’s smile grew even wider.

Did they say... bunny...?

Virgil pouted in return, her reaction less than ideal. Instead of complaining, his legs pulled them closer by their lap and rested there, snuggled up against the pal with the colourful hair. Not even a beanie this time.

“I am not a bunny”

He slurped up some of the pinkish drink from hell.

It was tasty.

Such a bitch.

How dare it be tasty when he tried to be angry with Emile for giving him free stuff and falsely calling him a bunny when he was clearly a unicorn! Like the drink!

Remy nodded sagely, sensing a bit of mood at this moment.

“Virgil thinks he is a unicorn despite looking like a bunny but that is okay. We still love him.”

His hand sneaked over to her, gently patting her shoulder and indirectly bringing himself closer to Emile in the process.

Not that anyone was complaining.

He was simply slurping his iced coffee in gratitude. It calmed down his hot face and fidgety fingers. Holding the cool cup gave his fingers something to do at least.

For a moment, Emile’s forest eyes looked into his soul. Fae blinked and nodded before turning back to Virgil.

“Virgil, do you feel like a unicorn? Do you identify as one?”

Emile looked at her, carefully brushing over her legs as they attempted to keep eye contact. Virgil looked away, face fully averted.

Fae patiently squeezed his leg.

“If you want me to call you unicorn, I will. I just liked the nickname bunny for you because you jump a lot and are very active.”

Remy smiled. He did not notice but he leaned against Emile’s patient shoulder with his own head.

Fae minded the contact with a little blink and one of faer unoccupied hands moving to take Remy’s.

The pouting smalls still looked away, stubbornly staring at the sky instead of facing the other two idiots.

“You know, I really hate littering, too.”

Virgil cleared her throat, gently hugging her flat stomach a bit. It was not exactly colder than before but maybe by now his open jacket and exposing outfit proved to be impractical for stargazing together.

“If you call me bunny and nobody else, I am okay. And if you mean it as a nice name. Remy too. Even though Remy was a butt about it because I know I am a unicorn, even with ears!”

His voice got a bit louder. Then she nodded in self-assurance to end the sentence and prove a point. He pulled a phone up with him on it, hood over his head, the bunny ears flailing around from the impact of being so harshly moved around.

The small friend snuggled up to Emile and reached out to hold Remy’s hand too.

“You are dumb but you are both okay. You two can call me bunny but I will stab anyone else who tried to do that.”

She huffed softly.

Remy squeezed their hands together and put Virgil’s and Emile’s soft hands together.

“You are our little bunny, then.”

The tallest of the three hummed in thought, their eyes slipping close.

“You guys wanna get high now or later? Because I am ready.”

Virgil shook his head.

“Can’t. I will die.”

Remy nudged Emile so much, it pushed them all against Virgil and had her nearly topple over. She hissed at Remy and angrily glared at him.

“You gotta take a chill pill. I will bring you home with me and the day after. We came in one car anyway.”

Emile looked between them.

“What is the issue? Do you have to go home later?”

Their voice was so smooth and innocent, it felt like talking to a child for just a moment. They both knew there was more than enough wit between these words to take down a whole system.

“I gotta take care of my baby sibling. They are tiny baby and need someone to look out for them.”

Remy shook his head adamantly.

“Logan is, like, 13 and would love to be home alone from your exhausted ass. If you wanna, I will babysit them with Emile. You mind that at all?”

The addressed pal stole a quick glance from Remy for just a moment before looking into the dark night sky.

“It is settled. Virgil, we are officially kidnapping your hot butt and putting you on high duty of being dummy idiotic and free of responsibilities for a few hours. We will take a look at your sibling, too. Promise.”

Virgil let out a whine.

Her hand pushed the now empty cup into the abandoned basket Emile had brought along.

He laid down all over Remy’s and Emile’s long legs in the dramatic flair of imitating death or at least heavy defeat.

“Mmm... will you give me ice cream?”

Emile nodded, gently brushing through her hair.

“I got ice cream at home but we can also buy some just for you if you don’t wanna depend on that.”

The third in their group yipped out a happy sound of agreement.

“We can ask Logan to sleep at a friend’s place or be there with us and wait until they sleep. They go to sleep super early anyway, that nerd.”

The laying swan .. bunny.. uh... unicorn? Shrugged.

“ ‘s kinda cute.. they care about school n all. They are so good. They are too good.”

It sounded like a lament rather than a praise. There was so much pain in these words.

“That sounds nice, bunny. Sounds like your sibling learned a lot of nice things from you. I am sure that must be a lot.”

She took a deep breath.

Remy gave a meaningful nod towards Emile who, in turn, licked faer lips.

“I am proud of you but it is important to rest. Will you let us give you ice cream and take care of you?”

For a moment, the only answer was the bright light coming from the moon. Pale white illuminated the meadow. The stars were shining as always but their light was so far away, it barely reached them. From them, it seemed as if they were not bright at all because the moon was reflecting the light so prettily, it overpowered them all.

“Only if you get dumb with me and we do funny things?”

Remy squeezed their hands together, his second joining the pile of fingers.

“Of course. Now, text your baby sibling.”

The smaller one pulled out his phone and sloppily pulled out a phone.

“Jus do?”

The three got together, packing up their things and obviously taking their things with them.

“What is this?”

Remy followed Emile’s finger pointing at a bag of trash. He shrugged in return.

“We collected trash because Virgil really hates littering, you know?”

The mentioned bean shook his head and shrugged.

“Fuck pollution”, she defended herself as the taller one lead her to the car they shared, “see you in a bit?”

Remy texted Logan with Virgil’s phone and sent an address to their chat with Emile.

“Yo, I sent you the place we are going to drive to. You got that?”

Fae shrugged.

“I can literally just follow you guys like the little shadow I am. Just don’t drive like speeding dicks and I will be fine.”

Remy nodded. Virgil mumbled in agreement and pushed the trashbag into the car’s trunk. It was his car after all. Remy did not have an own car yet. It was more of a shared thing.

Together, they drove over to Virgil. On the way, Logan texted them how they would stay with a friend called Patton. Since Virgil knew Patton more than enough, she did not freak out but instead shrugged it off, told Remy and agreed under the condition of driving Logan there with the others.

Logan.. did not seem to mind.

Did they know Emile would join in?

Whether they did, the three arrived.

Virgil already munched on the space brownies, happily nibbling at the dark chocolatey delight of deep, sweet-bitter taste.

It was an experience.

At least there were no nuts in this.

Well... walnuts would probably be fine..

The three got out, one by one. Virgil first and Emile last.

She patiently took faer and then his hand before leading them over to the small apartment complex with the many little doors. It was a humble little location, the flats looked like miniature versions of actual living spaces for human beings but it was just enough for the modest taste of the tired middle pal of the trio.

He nudged the others towards the building and climbed the stairs.

“The brownies are tasty, Em. You are a real baker genius or.. like, something like that.”

She blinked at the intense lights. One of the white lights was flickering every now and then and it was somewhat bothersome to the eye.

“You ate them already?”

A bit of surprise tinged Emile’s voice. Remy held back a laughter.

“Yeah, Virgil is a thirsty and hungry hoe, no wonder he did that.”

Something in his words screamed “get used to it”. Fae did not know what to feel about this but took it with the humour of a baby adult.

“Not to take advantage of that but I don’t hate that.”

Virgil giggled.

“Shhhh, wait until Logan is gooohne,, They is a really clever baby sib thing, you know.”

More chuckled filled the air and made the stairway echo in giggles and delight from the trio.

They got up eventually, settling on the 7th level where Virgil unlocked apartment C and pushed the door open.

“Yo, I am back! Don’t cook meth, the neighbours will get jealous.”

He dropped the key in a little bowl on a shelf that leaned against the wall for support. The hallway welcomed the trio with faded colours and old, creaking wood planks as ground.

Emile blinked at the floor with a frown.

“Do you want us to keep our shoes on?”

Remy shook his head, his mouth opening to answer but a sound interrupted them.

A voice, more specifically.

“Virgil, please refrain from making comments of such kind. It is highly unlikely for anyone around here to cook methane, let alone you or me.”

A composed voice, stone-faced according to Emile’s feelings, replied to Virgil’s dismissive words and lazy greeting.

The trash was still in Remy’s hands.

“Fuck, I forgot this shit. You mind?”

Logan appeared. Well, it had to be Logan unless Emile had missed about another person living with her - and Logan.

The sibling was younger than Virgil, their face more tan yet somewhat soft and void of the exhaustion the life of emerging adulthood had already put on Virgil’s dark eyes. Especially evident were how there were no bags under Logan’s eyes while Virgil seemed to have never slept in his entire life, perhaps.

Maybe she did not sleep so everyone else could sleep? Like a sandman.

Logan was dressed in something reminding Remy of a suit. It was this undershirt-kinda thing Emile identified as waist coat. It was dark and hugged their slender figure. Blue? It looked pretty much like rather dark blue. They seemed a bit taller than Virgil, around as tall as Remy, almost - not quite. Their shirt was white and looked so ironed out, Emile could not even find a single wrinkle.

They were not wearing shoes but only white socks and long black pants. The waistcoat had a single chain or metal leading to a little pocket.

“Hello Remy, a pleasure to see you again. Do not worry about the bag. I will take it with me on the way down - “

Virgil piped up.

“WE! You are not going alone! It is dark and scary and I am your big shit and am telling you that you gotta hold my hand and be driven to your friend.”

Logan rolled their eyes, dark orbs behind black frames seemingly shrinking in something like annoyance.

However, there was a fond smile on their lips despite it being small. It was still there and when Virgil approached the sibling for a good old hug, they received it and even returned it, even if it was not as passionate.

Something warm pumped through Emile’s face and chest.

Seeing the two siblings cuddle made fae feel all giddy and comfortable.

“Of course. I agreed to your conditions after all.”

Only now Emile realised Logan was wearing a tie. They adjusted it despite it being in perfect position. Nothing was wrong with it..

It..

It had a pattern like constellations on it. Yes, clearly. Fae could see Leo right under their neck.

“Hello, you must be Virgil’s new friend. I am Logan.”

The, the small baby sibling was before faem, hand stretched out and dark eyes looking into faem as if it was a challenge to look serious and convincing.

It was more than effective, to be frank.

“Yeah, I am Emile. Fae/faer, please. You use anything but they/them?” They nodded a bit, their facial features softening somewhat.

“Thank you”

The words came out like a whisper. Emile smiled.

“Virgil, I am fucking adopting this kid, you have to marry me or some shit. This is now my bastard child!”

A hysterical fit of giggles could be heard while Logan was silently rolling his eyes so hard, Remy swore they moved a bit out of his face’s centre.

Remy pouted audibly.

“Ya get rights on my sibling, I don’t make the rules. Logan, you are loved by these dummies! It is the law, we are your personal protection squad!”

Remy blew out some air but nodded.

“Yeppers, we will do the illegal shit with you to keep you safe. We are gotta fake your a voting ID so you can change the world already.”

The tallest of the pals sucked in a breath.

“I know how to fake a voting ID! I made myself one, too! Hold on!”

Logan turned towards the new person, this Emile guy. The sound of giggles was still around and surely coming closer.

“Hey, hey, make sure to have it be a good fake. Can’t have the good kiddo fuck up a great lifeeee”, she argued, “They will be super fine because they are a great and lovely person. LOGAN I LOVE YOU!”

They closed their eyes instead of rolling them. Their lips curled further into a more than evident smile and a small hint of pink tinted their pale cheeks.

“I l-love you too, Virgil. Please calm down, it is quite alright. I am just me.”

Virgil was back by now, a little box in his hands.

“Shut up, be proud of yourself. You have amazing grades, super engagement in different projects and activities and you are a bright person with great competences. You are trying and working a lot to get this far and I am proud of you. You should be, too. I barely finished school with my shitty grades. It was mostly pity”

Virgil blinked softly. Her hand gently brushed over their cheek and carefully patted its side. Emile and Remy moved out of the way to give the siblings some space. They obviously had a moment going on.

“I don’t care what you make of yourself. I just want you to be happy and proud of what you do. We all know we were not born to be perfect and yet you are here and doing this.. this fucking badassery of ace-ing all ya exams and life shit and all.”

She scooted closer.

“I know Patton likes quiche I make, so I packed some for you two to share. I put money in, too. Get snacks and order something if you two need it, alright? I love you, kiddo. I really do.”

He snuggled up to them and gave their pale cheeks a soft smooch. The elder sibling mumbled softly.

“If you complain about the money, I will bite your nose. Just take it. Financial worries are mine, not yours.”

Logan looked at Virgil, a shadow darkening their pale features. It was like a tree branch in the night, throwing a scary shadow into the room of a young and gullible child.

They abandoned the doubt and shook it off with a new sense of hardness in their eyes. It was sparkling determination.

“Have fun with your friends, please. I want you to take care of yourself, too. You and I both know that a good social life helps your mental health which, in turn, positively affects your overall well-being.”

Virgil blinked, happy beams radiating from her old orbs.

“You are the best sibling I could have ever wished for, Lo.”

She cleared her throat, wiping over her wet eyes.

“Time to fucking get ya to you friend! Ree will drive you and I will have ice-cream like a real champ!”

“REEEE, EEEEEM! Let us gOOOO!”

The middle man came back in, Emile right on his ass.

“You finished your drama? You won’t stab us if we come back in?”

Virgil giggled under the scolding look from his sibling. She shrugged dismissively.

“I am ready to go. I will wait in the car.”

They got pushed the little container into their backpack and put it over their shoulders before grabbing the trash and retrieving the keys from his sibling.

“Nuu, you are a baby and we gotta go with you. Reeeemileeey~ Come with me~”

The two got ready and joined as requested.

“DId you fuse our names?!”

There was an unusual amount of excitement in Emile’s voice. Not that they were not usually excited and happy but this was on a whole new level. There was a sense of knowledge and expectation in faer tone of voice.

It was difficult for Virgil to put her finger on it, considering she started feeling a bit more of an effect from the edibles she had consumed. Remy noted the excitement with his own piece of interest.

“I fuuuused your names and they fit together sooo well!”

As Virgil giggled, Emile’s eyes seemed to double in size, more so the black pools in the middle of these wild orbs.

Remy blinked at this change, his own curiosity swinging into the direction of excitement as well.

He wanted to know about the things that got Emile to bounce on faer feet like the most adorable danger stick in the whole history of humankind.

Something glowed in these mysterious eyes and Remy wanted to know more about it.

Well, for know it was time to take responsibility and drive them all to Patton.

He still wanted to know about it, so he took a chance when they had arrived and the three remained in the car alone, Virgil cuddled up to Emile and holding hands with glowing cheeks and a free heart.

Logan waved goodbye one last time and disappeared into the warm home of a loving family. A whole family.

“Em, what is so exciting about fusions? Do you like those kinda things?”

For a moment, his mind wandered as he tapped his foot down onto the pedals and started driving again in first gear before shifting higher.

He did not have the opportunity to glance into the rear-view mirror and see their face light up like a burning candle. Certainly, if he knew about how much he had missed, he would have cursed his own care about safe driving.

“I L-O-V-E fusions!”

A giggled followed faer sudden spray of words. The excitement pitched their voice into a higher vocal range.

Unexpected but lovely in a way it made Remy’s heart throb with just as much energy as Emile offered him. He let himself giggle a bit while Virgil was nothing but a puddle of chuckles and snickers. The half-naked pal hugged Emile close, seemingly absorbing their enthusiasm.

“Why do you like fusions so much, lovely?”

Remy licked his lips, tasting the delicious energy in the air. He relished in just a quick glance into the rear-view mirror in which he saw Virgil and Emile bonking the sides of their heads together, the latter bouncing a bit in faer seat.

His heart was blooming.

These two were the summer of his life.

“Th.-they !! Do y-you know of-of S-Steve Un-Univ-verse?”

Their hands were everywhere, Remy noticed. Virgil put himself on high-five duty whenever these hands moved places and suddenly appeared next to him or in front of his nose or behind Remy’s head.

To her, it was as if these hands appeared out of nowhere while Emile fawned his happy juices into every direction of this car.

Remy readily took in everything he could with a smile on his lips and promises in his chest. Sadly, he still had to shake his head but he prompted them.

“Enlighten us, would you?”

Fae continued, hands still moving in a somewhat erratic manner.

“S-So in - I .. I mean, y-you know”, they started, then stopped, then started again just to take a short pause.

Faer face fell into a statute-like aesthetic as fae deliberated what to say. The happy glows in their orbs were forever-persistent.

“Mw, Em.. Emiiiiile”, Virgil cooed softly, patting their hair, “You are wonderful.. your.. y... sEt.. pf.. ph-... STEVEN is your FRIEND and really wonderpoof too.”

She nodded, a sense of importance surrounding her. It gave her an expression of wisdom and some sort of... safe space. There was acceptance in his features.

Even when he mispronounced and misunderstood everything going on.

Virgil eagerly patted Emile’s poofy hair while nodding more, her happy curls jumping up and down the sides of her face like excited monkeys.

“So-sO! Steven is-is a human a-and he is part of the-the cry-c..c-crystal gems who are basically alien stones with magic. Oh, and they have weird adventures t-t-together and ev-everything is soft and ni-nice!”

Fae bounced in the back seat and Virgil enthusiastically moved along without even having a single clue of what was happening at the moment.

They clapped and she mimicked the movements with confused nods and delayed yaps.

“Magic Stpehen.. ph..phatven...”

Virgil looked at his hands, confusion spinning in their lost eyes. Maybe staring into her fingers could answer her the question of how it came that “Steven” was so difficult to pronounce.

They did not, if you wondered, too.

Emile smiled, gently brushing through his hair.

The most gentle of all smiles adorned their face as they soothed Virgil ever so patiently. The flapping piece of oversized jacket and mad boxers eventually nestled in faer lap and hugged these legs calmly. Every now and then, Emile would receive a loving pat to their skin because Virgil forgot what they felt like. Or because she was curious about what skin did when being touched and moved and shoved or patted.

They patiently stroked his hair further while Remy had a hard time keeping his gay together and himself focused.

Luckily, they arrived and got back up, Virgil insistently patting and hugging every door, pole and wall they did not pull him away from.

She was a really excited person in this state.

When they got into the apartment, Remy lead them to the couch, considering Virgil was a bit less in the position to know where anything or anyone was.

They snuggled up again, this time Virgil was in the middle and fidgeting with a magic cube.. rubrix.. thingy.. hihi, it felt funny!

“Remy, loook!”

She pushed the cube into his hands and hugged Emile close.

“Magical cube”, Virgil explained, voice mimicking the tone of a captivating conspiracy video.

“Very magical, cube”, fae agreed.

Remy nodded.

“Magical like these rad fucking shits you made. We are gonna see more than stars, we will see an entire galaxy!”

His words were purring in amusement.

Virgil lazily blinked at Remy, then slowly turned to Emile and just.. dropped their head to the side, completely overdoing the “tilting your head” business.

“Sooo.. are we.. a fusion?”

A clank could be heard and suddenly, Virgil whined and hugged the two close.

“The magical cube disappeared! I...m-..magic!”

His voice dropped into the sounds of scary camp fire horror stories once more.

“...m a g i c.”

The tallest of the three pushed another biscuit to Remy who gladly consumed the sweet, spacey treat.

“You are magic, you two fusers”, Emile purred back in reply and gently snuggled back, carefully pecking Virgil. This time, a whine arouse from Remy’s throat.

Emile shook faer head, a wild grin decorating this precious face.

Was that a little scar on their cheekbone? Oh, those cheekbones...

Remy got so lost in Emile’s pretty face, he barely noticed it coming close, Emile’s eyes closing sensually, slowly...

Then, their lips brushed against one another. Lonely mouth and alluring goal meeting and pressing together, closing around one another like embracing lovers after a long period of distancing.

“waHOOOO, G A Y!!”

Virgil cheered for them, leaving the youngest of the three to pull away from Remy, skin like cherry blossoms in the heat of spring.

Fae simply let him, innocently commenting with nothing but a whipping of faer eyelashes towards the shy one.

“Is that new for you, Virgil?”

The playful breeze of something like a rivalry returned, nestling between the moody couple of different extremes. The trio’s shortest and longest member looked at each other, a special dynamic reigning between them and drawing them closer.

“New that he gets the kisses first”, Virgil answered in unabashed honesty.

Instead of hiding behind witty remarks and sarcastic or snarky comments, she off-handedly pronounced the issue and pulled Emile in, gently pulling at the leather collar of this damn self-improved jacket.

It was surprisingly soft, compared to last time, at least.

Their lips were raspberries squeezing together ever so slightly, merely touching more than for a fleeting moment.

Virgil was the one to pull away.

It was Emile’s turn to be flustered at this moment. Fae slowly backed up, settling into faer space on the couch and taking another one of the beaked treats. They nibbled on them, hiding their face while Virgil pushed her legs onto faer lap and rested her head on Remy’s happy thighs. His skirt was rolled up a little so he got to feel his hair.

“You two taste so sweet...”

Remy shrugged, face still ablaze without his knowledge. He suspected it, though.

“Hey, Em. You going to college when the holidays are over?”

The taller one took the moment to appreciate Remy’s timing and tasteful change of topics while Virgil delightfully brushed over his exposed stomach in mild interest.

“I am just here for a summer job, I guess I told you guys”, fae mumbled softly as faer fingers moved to catch up to Virgil’s tracing fingerpads.

“After that I am going to Yban University further up the north. What about you guys?”

Virgil was chuckling and squirming when Emile started stroking his exposed skin.

He was ticklish, Remy remembered fondly.

“Virgil is gonna go up there too, but for working. So you can hang out with Logan if you want to!”

Remy winked and Emile stuck out their tongue at him.

“Don’t fuck the baby sibling.”

The small anger dwarf flailed and gasped.

“Nu, fuck me instead!”

Emile fucking starting to cough up during a weird mix of laughing and choking on his own mind and his partners’ words.

“Not na- now!”, fae gasped out, wiggling a bit but staying in place, more or less.

“Man”, Remy started, softly offering his hand for Emile to hold while his other was still carding through Virgil’s hair, “I will go up and study. It is surreal.”

He blinked.

“Holy fuckening, we are going to the same spot! I will move in with Virgil, like, fucking literally. As soon as I get my acceptance email and letter.. I .. I am.. gonna.. I will fuck your landlord.”

Emile was playing with their hair while stroking over these exposed legs.

“You two.. wanna hang out if we all end up in the same spot? That would be cool.”

Remy patted the spot close to him and gestured towards Emile, then back to the spot as he started to lay down. They got the message and followed suit.

Together, the three cuddled up, now laying and still high off their butts.

“It is perfect”, Em yawned, gently kissing the back of Remy’s hand.

Virgil nodded softly and pushed her nose against the other two pals’ noses.

“If you guys are with me, I can do all. I will get all done. I can do it.”

At least he tried saying that. His words came out as a jumble of weird sounds.

Laughter erupted and Virgil snuggled up, eyes closed and gently smooching the two before drifting off to sleep while the others whisper-screamed whatever thing seemed absolutely hilarious at the moment.

If they would stay together, she knew they would all be fine. They would all make it.

He was certain of it.

8 notes · View notes

kn1feinthec0ffee · 4 years

Text

in too deep (part 6) - jules

jules x reader

warnings: implied drug use, head trauma, choking, death

notes: as i’m typing this i’m SO excited to post it i just really love how this turned out and i hope you guys do too

also idk how to make a hyperlink but if you’re looking for any of the other parts just search #jules on my page and they should come up :)

******************************

everything felt... numb. quiet. miles and miles away.

you thought you had felt silence before, but this was on a whole other level. you could see yourself standing in an empty, pitch black void, mindlessly wandering in circles.

you felt a small tickle underneath your nose, but seemingly nothing caused it. you rubbed at your face, some invisible antagonist causing an irritating tingle across your skin.

suddenly, the air became trapped in your lungs, your throat itching with the need to breathe. you took in a breath through your nose and watched in wonder as the barren darkness around you rapidly morph into a magnificent rainbow of colors.

the colors turned paler and paler as a bright whiteness set in, a searing pain bursting through your chest. you cried out for the light to stop, begging to go back to the comforting darkness.

your eyelids flew open as you began to hyperventilate in panic. your pupils darted around the room, taking in all your blinding surroundings. you tried to speak, but jules held a firm hand over your mouth.

“hey, hey, it’s okay, baby! you’re okay!” she lifted her hand and ran it down your jaw comfortingly. “hey, i have a plan.”

———————————————

“let’s get the hell outta here and find ‘em.” george mumbled, the door slamming behind the couple.

jules peeked our the window, ensuring that they had left before you came out of hiding. she let out a frantic laugh, excited beyond belief that the two of you had finally managed to escape from under their watchful eyes.

“i can’t believe that fucking worked!” you breathed out. you pulled her in for a deep kiss before snatching the keys you spotted during dinner. you busied yourself unlocking the garage, looking over your shoulder to find jules looking at you disapprovingly. “what is it, babe? we gotta get the fuck out of here!”

“y/n, the kid.” she gestured towards the basement door.

“shit, yeah, you’re right,” you sighed. “let’s go get her.” you practically flew down the stairs, pulling the keys from your pocket and unlocking the chains.

“c’mon! let’s go!” you quickly realized she was hesitant because of your earlier actions. “oh, are you still mad about earlier? i was lying, didn’t you see me wink? that’s what a wink is; it means you’re not supposed to believe what i said!”

sweetiepie stubbornly refused to move. “look, hun, i’m really sorry for what i said, alright? i should’ve known you don’t know what a wink is. i get it, this is clearly a very serious household, but we have to get out of here right now, and we really want you to come with us, okay, sweetheart?” you held out a hopeful hand towards her.

she nodded silently, placing a tiny hand in yours. “there ‘ya go, let’s beat it.” you scooped her up into your arms as you ran up the stairs.

the three of you burst through the garage door, placing sweetiepie in the backseat after jules unlocked the door. you slid into the driver’s seat, searching blindly for the garage-door-opener but coming up empty handed.

“shit! where’s the fuckin’ garage thingy?” you panicked. jules opened the console, pressing the button as soon as she found it.

as the door finally peeled open, the air left your body in an instant. george stood in the driveway, your pistol trained on you.

motherfucker.

“get outta the goddamn car, y/n.” he demanded. your brain was racing hundreds of miles a minute, working through every possible way this could end.

“i love you, julie, but please forgive me for just how fucking stupid i’m about to be.” before she could protest, you uttered a simple command. “duck.”

sweetiepie and jules covered their head, bracing themselves for whatever was about to happen. you took a deep breath before stepping on the gas, ducking down behind the steering wheel.

you heard the crack of three gunshots, followed by the thunk of george’s body underneath the car. you slammed on the brake to avoid crashing into the forest, your head whipping into the wheel as the car jolted to a stop.

jules peeked through her fingers, elated to see all the passengers alive and bullet hole-free.

“ah fuck, my fuckin’ head, i-“ your words were muffled against jules lips as she desperately mashed them against yours.

“you’re so fucking brave, baby! i love you so much! i love you so fucking much!” tears slid down her cheeks as she declared her love for you. you smiled at her praises and pulled away from her with a parting peck.

“you alright back there, sweetheart?” you looked in the rearview mirror. she offered nothing but a simple nod and a nearly imperceptible smile. before you could shift into reverse and leave this hellhole, the driver-side door flew open and you fell to the ground.

george threw you into the pavement with impressive strength for someone who had just been run over only moments ago. your head jerked into the unforgiving macadam, stunning you momentarily and giving george enough time to wrap his hands around your throat.

“you thought you could kill me?” he gurgled, blood dripping from his wounds. “i’m never gonna die!” you practically felt the life slipping out of your hands. you so desperately wanted to put up a fight, but you couldn’t find the strength to do so.

“i’m the last thing you’re ever gonna see. time to go.” george growled, squeezing tighter. you could faintly hear footsteps in quick succession, but you had no idea who they were coming from.

“let go of her!” jules yelled, trying with all her might to wrench the psychopathic man off of you. for a moment you thought she might succeed, but you heard another woman’s voice, gloria, you assumed, pull her away from you.

through darkening vision and fluttering eyelids, you caught a glimpse of the older woman brandishing a knife against the neck of your girlfriend as she struggled fruitlessly.

fighting seemed hopeless as you had run out of breath and darkness began to encapsulate your surroundings. this is it, you thought. this is where it all ends.

until,

click.

the sound of a pistol cocking. the pressure eased off of your esophagus and you rolled onto your side trying to catch your breath.

“sweetiepie,” george began with his thick southern drawl. “where’d ‘ya get that gun? c’mon now, give it to daddy. what did these people say about me? d’they tell you i’m a bad man? i’m not a bad man, i’m a good man, bring the gun to daddy.”

sweetiepie stood stoic, refusing to move the gun from it’s place in her hands. george decided to try a different approach. “what’ll make you feel good? you know what makes me feel good? ice cream. mint cho-”

a gunshot rang through the air, it’s bullet making a rapid path straight through his eye socket. his body fell onto the ground with a thud.

“george?” gloria crooned. “are you okay?” the knife clattered against the driveway. jules rushed away from her over to you, helping you from the ground. she grabbed the gun from sweetiepie’s hands and aimed it at the widow in case she made any sudden moves.

“time for us to go! the open road is ahead, george.” she sniffled. “oh, i suppose we could wait a bit longer, if you need.” she continued to mumble some more crazy talk as she stroked her deceased husband’s cheek.

jules lowered her gun, turning to the little girl who saved your asses. she pulled her close, running her ringed fingers through the girl’s matted locks. sweetiepie looked up to you, leaning against the car door for support, and buried her face in your shirt as she wrapped her arms around you. “i wanna go with you,” she murmured quietly.

“let’s go, julie.” you wheezed. she nodded, checking to make sure gloria wasn’t going to pull anything on you.

the three of you made it to the main road. the rush of adrenaline from the coke had finally worn off and the pain and exhaustion from your injuries had caught up to you as you leaned your weight on jules’ shoulder. you weren’t quite sure where exactly you were trying to go, mainly just looking for any means to leave this state.

“when we get out of here,” you mumbled. “are we going back to stealing?” you looked over to your girlfriend who was looking down at the little girl holding your hand.

“i don’t think this one needs any more bad influences in her life, i’m sure we’ll find something. maybe we can start that business like we’ve always wanted to.” she smiled.

before either of you could elaborate any further, the sound of gravel crunching beneath tires filled your ears. jules stuck her thumb out, hoping the driver had enough of a heart to pull over. the red truck slowed to a stop and you watched as the window rolled down, revealing an older woman.

“where you girls headed?” she asked considerately. sweetiepie stood on her tip toes to get a better look at what was presumably the first person she’d seen in what you assumed had been years.

you shared a look with jules, silently coming to the same conclusion. “florida.”

the woman smiled, unlocking the doors with the switch on the door. “well, i’m not exactly a taxi service, so i can’t guarantee ‘ya i’ll get you that far, but i’ll see what i can do.”

jules grinned happily, thanking the woman immensely. you gave sweetiepie a boost into the back seat, jules helping you up next to her before sliding into the passenger seat herself.

some country song started playing at a low volume over the radio while you let your head fall back against the headrest. sweetiepie looked equally as worn out as you, but somewhat excited at the prospect of seeing what anything outside of a dingy basement looked like.

jules turned around to check on you and smiled at what she saw. you were passed out with your head against the cool glass of the car window, sweetiepie fast asleep on your lap, the two of you out cold before you even hit the first red light.

she turned back around, tears welling in her eyes as she imagined the life the three of you would live together.

******************************

HAHA YOU DIDN’T ACTUALLY THINK I WAS GONNA WRITE THE ACTUAL ENDING DID YOU???? jokes on you i am FAR too soft for that!!

if you’re wondering how i came up with this alternate ending, this was the situation that i came up with immediately after watching the movie for the first time when i realized just HOW AVOIDABLE mickey’s death was

and another factor in that is that i think i’m physically incapable of writing anything that doesn’t have a happy ending sooo

tags: @emmyrosee @bill-skarsgard-owns-my-ass @flowers-in-your-hayr @willyourecognisemee

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twokinkybeans · 4 years

Text

Jar Of Dirt 12: Pizza Party [Starker Fanfiction NSFW/18+]

There's a LOT going on in this chapter, sorry for this crazy amount of warnings whoops.

Kink/Sexual Warnings: Daddy Kink, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Voice Kink, Name-Calling, Public Teasing, Exhibitionism, Explicit Fantasies about some of the other Avengers, Anal Sex, Sex Toys, Spitroasting (with a toy), Blindfold, Sensory Deprivation. Other Warnings: Beck is back - being a creep & implying some dubious things.

All Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11 . . . Masterpost (More to come!)

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Chapter 12: Pizza Party Peter’s late, as usual. He just can’t help it; if there’s a robbery down the street he has to do something about it. Even if he’d want to ignore it, it’s simply not his nature. He’s Spider-Man. That’s what he does. Besides, it’s not like he misses anything too important for his physics lecture. Professor Dane is super old and usually takes half an hour to even get started. Peter knows it’s a bad trait to be tardy, so he does make an effort to get there as soon as possible. He cuts a corner and ducks to evade a few other students who stare him down. When he’s almost at the door of the lecture hall, he slows down. Hoping to ease his panting before he walks in. He doesn’t want to look like a wheezing idiot. His skin’s tingling and Peter frowns. That’s highly unusual. It’s probably the leftover adrenaline making his Spidey senses kick in though, so he tries to shake the warning signs his body is trying to give him.

When he feels like he’s collected himself enough, he wraps his fingers around the doorknob and slowly opens it, flinching at the squeaky sound that comes from the hinges. His head is ducked down, trying to evade the gazes of all the students that are staring at him. They can’t help it, the door is at the front of the lecture hall and someone coming in late is the perfect distraction from Dane’s slow, monotone sentences. Something’s off though. There’s something ominous hanging in the room. “Ah! Peter Parker!” Peter stops dead in his tracks when he recognizes that voice. That is not Professor Dane. Oh, no. Peter slowly turns his head to the man in front of the whiteboard. A shiver running down Peter’s spine when he sees the wide, toothy grin and slicked-back hair. His big, bright blue eyes pierce through Peter’s. “Glad you could join us, after all.”

Beck takes a few steps towards Peter and cocks his head, his grin causing Peter’s blood to run cold. His jaw is clenched. Every molecule inside his body is screaming at him to run. But he can’t cause a scene. He shouldn’t. He’s not like that. To the class, Beck hasn’t done anything out of the ordinary. “Mr. Beck,” he says politely, not missing how that only deepens the man’s smirk, his eyes glimmering in victory. “Heard many good things about you, kid.” Kid. He called him kid. Like Tony does. Fucking hell. "I'll be taking over from professor Dane, while he's recovering from surgery. Now, please take a seat. Page 26 of your handout.”

During the lecture, Peter doesn’t miss the way the girls in his class seem to flock together, sending Beck flirtatious smiles, giggling. Peter presses his lips together. He gets it. Beck is charming as fuck. If Peter didn’t know any better he’d be sending Quentin the exact same gaze. But he does know better, and it doesn’t sit right with him. He tries to ignore Beck as much as he can. Taking notes and reading along on the handout. But he feels Beck’s gaze brushing past him each and every time, making him break into goosebumps. He knows he’s the center of the man’s attention and he hates it. He has no clue what the lecture is actually about. So when Beck asks him a question, he doesn’t know what to answer. “Uhh- I- I don’t know.” “You don’t know,” Beck mutters. “First. You’re fifteen minutes late. And now you’re not paying attention. I expect you to behave in my class. Is that understood?” “Yes,” Peter breathes out, his heart thumping in his chest. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Beck doesn’t leave it at that, cocking an eyebrow at him. Peter’s cheeks flush in embarrassment. He knows what Beck is forcing him to say. He doesn’t want to say it. He feels sick to his stomach at the thought alone. But he can’t misbehave in class. He can’t show the others what’s going on. So he looks up, forcing a smile on his lips, feeling them quiver.

“Yes, Sir.”

When class is over, Peter’s the first one outside, ignoring Beck by staring straight at the floor, not listening when the man calls him back. His heart is thumping in his chest. His thoughts all jumbled up. Beck. Beck. Beck. After ten minutes of long strides, he finally feels like he’s far enough away from the lecture hall to allow himself to breathe. He drops himself on the nearest bench and stares at the students lounging on the little grass patch in front of him. “Dude-” Peter’s shaken out of his thoughts by Ned, running to catch up with him. Peter’s unsure how long he sat on that bench, his mind racing too much to keep track of time. “What the hell happened back there, man?” Ned pants as he sits down next to Peter, spreading his limbs slightly to cool down.

Peter scoffs, bending forward to press his hands against his forehead, elbows resting on his knees. “Mandatory class,” he mumbles. “What?” “It’s a mandatory class, Ned!” “Of course, it’s mandatory, Pete- you’re literally studying physics! Attendance isn’t optional.” Ned leans down forward to get to Peter’s level. “Why are you so worked up? Don’t you like Mr. Beck?” Peter scoffs again and looks at Ned with raised eyebrows. “That man is Mr. Stark’s abusive ex. Tried to get in my pants at Tony’s birthday party.” “Holy fuck.” Ned leans back again, still panting from his workout earlier. “Wait- abusive?” “Don’t-” “Alright, alright, sorry. Personal stuff, I get it.” Ned opens his palms and nods once. Peter lets out a deep sigh and squeezes his eyes shut. “Can’t call in sick either, every class for the entire upcoming month is important…” Peter mumbles. “Got the practicals- can’t skip those.” Ned places his hand on Peter’s shoulder and squeezes once. “Pete, it’s only one week. Prof Dane will be back before you know it.” Peter takes a deep breath and bites the inside of his cheek. “Yeah- yeah, it’s not a big deal- I mean, it’s a big deal, but I can deal with it yaknow-” “Peter. Stop.” Peter presses his lips on top of each other and purses them, nodding slightly. Ned gently pulls Peter back to help him sit more comfortably on the bench. They stay there, quietly staring ahead and Peter can’t be more grateful for his best friend.

“What are you gonna tell Mr. Stark?” Peter keeps staring ahead, blinking a few times, processing Ned’s words. “Nothing.” Ned shifts in his seat, pulling a face at Peter. “Nothing?” “I’ve seen how anxious Beck makes him. And he wasn’t even in the room when it happened. I- I can’t. I don’t want to make him scared for something that’s probably harmless. It’s only for a week and then we can forget about all of this. Forget about him.” “I mean, fair.” Ned sucks at his teeth. “Besides, Beck wouldn’t try anything on campus anyways; there’s cameras everywhere.” Peter nods and scratches at his head before realizing Tony’s coming over to their dorm tomorrow. He turns to Ned, eyes wide. “Please, don’t tell Mr. Stark about this. Don’t tell him about prof Dane, or any substitute. Just- just don’t mention physics class at all, okay?” Peter’s intensity has Ned shift back a little, raising his hands defensively. “Okay- okay, I gotchu, man. I’ll keep my mouth shut.” “Promise me, Ned.” Peter gives him a pleading look, causing Ned to roll his eyes and smile. “I promise.”

Peter expected a lot of things from Tony sleeping over at their dorm. He thought it’d be awkward. Thought Tony might feel out of place or not know what to say to Ned, or anything uncomfortable really. Instead, Tony’s propped up on Peter’s small bed in between the boys. Legs splayed out, the black sweatpants hugging the man’s skin loosely. He’s staring at the screen intently, his upper body moving to the right fast when he’s nearly causing the green squishy to fall off the Rainbow Road. “Fucking hell,” he mutters, making Peter laugh. “Dumb Dino… I’ve actually raced a solid ten minutes in the Formula 1 in Monaco, this is the biggest downgrade ever.” He curses when Mini Hulk actually falls into the void. “Great, now I’m way behind.” Ned perks up at the mention of the Formula 1. “Oh right! That was way back, right? With the Stark Expo? Think I saw it in this documentary once.” Fuck, these kids are young. “Yup, was fun till Vanko decided to ruin it.” “Did you know that’s actually when we first met? That Stark Expo?” Peter’s voice chimes in and Tony looks at his boyfriend, wide-eyed. No longer paying attention to the TV screen, T-Rex failed him anyways. “What?” “Yeah! You probably don’t remember me, but I was one of the kids with an Iron Man helmet? I actually still have the magazine you signed for me somewhere in a box." Tony stares at Peter. God, the boy isn’t even joking. “Wait, how old were you back then? That was ages ago.” Peter doesn’t answer, he just grins. “Oh my God, I’m old.”

“You guys want more chips? I can get more chips.” Ned says slowly, shifting forward to jump off the bed. He grabs the bowls and leaves for the kitchen. Peter blushes. He hadn’t meant for Ned to feel uncomfortable. They’ll start a new round when the boy gets back to make up for it and move past this conversation. Peter can’t help but to make one more comment, though. “Lemme rephrase. I was the kid with the Iron Man helmet who was dumb enough to stand up against one of those drone thingies.” “That was you?!” Tony huffs out a surprised breath. “Fuck, kid, that’s not dumb. Always thought that kid- you were brave, Jeez.” He smiles at Peter proudly. Fuck. Even when he was an actual child he didn’t shy away from a fight. He’d been right to take Spider-Man under his wing all those years ago. Peter’s made for it. “Wait, so you remember that?” Peter’s blushing, a smile breaking through the expression on his face. “Fuck, yes, I do.”

Ned returns with the chips and gets back on the bed again, picking up his console. “Pete, what do you say, Baby Park next?” “Hell yeah!” The other uni student replies. Tony groans. That name alone doesn’t sound very promising. He lifts the controller and looks at the symbols once more, making sure he knows where they are located, and snorts when he sees a tiny green blob in his kart on the screen. Those Millennials are another species, that’s for sure. Tony can hear Peter’s voice echo in his head. “Mr. Stark, Millennials are in their late 30s by now, I’m a Gen-Z.” “Yeah, sure, kid, go catch your Poké-mans.” It made Peter laugh, so that’s all that really mattered. He might not get all their references and jokes, but he loves spending time with Peter in his world like this.

Later that night, right before Peter wants to hop into his bed, his phone buzzes. He frowns, looking at the screen. It’s a message from Natasha. Peter grins. She’s joining the surprise pizza party for Tony next weekend as well. Awesome. Peter smiles proudly as he types a quick message back. He did it. He got all the Avengers together. Awesome. He presses the send button and frowns when he sees there’s a little notification in his MIT Mailbox as well. They never get any emails there. “Hey Ned, we got a message from the MIT Security Staff?” Peter frowns. He sits down at the edge of the mattress, his fingers moving over the screen swiftly to open it. His eyes scan the text quickly. “Oh, shit,” he mumbles. “Some alien chemical got stolen from the lab?” “What?” Tony takes Peter’s phone out of the boy’s hands. His eyes glide over the letters and not much later, he snorts. “Unidentified, yet most likely harmless. Sure.” Tony rolls his eyes and hands Peter his phone back. “That’s damage control. They need to know who did it but they don’t want people to freak out.” “Yeah-” Ned adds, reading the email on his own phone. “They’re asking for our alibis.” He scratches his head. “Would they believe me if I said I spent the day with Tony Stark?” Tony chuckles. “If you want a selfie, just ask.” Ned’s cheeks flare up and Peter laughs. “Not such a bad idea, though. We should probably take one.” Peter gestures Ned to come in closer. Tony groans, leaning in as well. “Do not post this on the Internet. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

Peter steadies the phone in front of their faces, nudging Tony to stop looking so serious. The older man rolls his eyes and breaks into a wide grin as he looks at the screen. Right after he snaps the picture, Ned perks up. “Why don’t we ask Mr. B- our substitute teacher if he knows more? Isn’t he specialized in this field? He did mention knowing a lot about this kind of stuff, didn’t he?” Peter’s eyes widen and he smacks Ned’s chest. “Ouch, dude!” Peter shakes his head furiously, glaring at his best friend. Ned raises his arms defensively and Peter groans, muttering something inaudible. Tony watches the boys carefully, cocking an eyebrow. “Substitute teacher?” “Y-Yeah, it’s nothing, Mr. Stark!” Ned stutters. “I just-” “H-He just means that we have to ask our teacher about that one, uh, project, right Ned?” “Yes! Yes. The… Project!” “You girls keep on bickering, I’m going to make some phone calls to some of my old MIT buddies, see if they know what’s going on.” Tony gets up, fishing his phone out of his pockets and walking to the hallway, leaving both boys at whatever little argument they were having. College kids…

Tony always looks back at his time at MIT with fondness. He took the first chance he got at permanently moving out of his parents’ house. It allowed him a lot of freedom and a chance at at least somewhat of a normal life before he fell into the rabbithole that was Stark Industries. He hasn’t talked to his MIT friends in ages. He shared everything with them at the time. A frat house, a room… Underwear. Tony shudders at the thought but collects himself and looks up Eric’s number in his phone, quietly hoping it’s still the same as back then. Spending the day with Peter and Ned definitely grounded him. It brought him back to his own time at MIT and it was… Nice, honestly. Extraordinarily ordinary.

“Hey Eric! Yes- it’s me- I have a question, did you hear-...”

“Surprise!”

Tony stands in the opening of the elevator doors of the Tower. Baffled. Everyone is here. His eyes search for Peter right away, finding the boy in the middle of the living room. Looking quite pleased with himself. There’s a large stack of pizza boxes on the coffee table, all of his friends scattered around it. Bucky and Steve propped up on the couch together, both smiling at Tony widely. Natasha and Bruce lean against the little bar behind the couch. Thor’s walking around, two huge pints of what must be Asgardian beer.

They’re all here. .

“What-...,” he stammers, voice trailing off. He’s literally speechless and watches his boyfriend walk up to him. “Remember how you wanted to celebrate your birthday with just your close friends? Well, it took me some time to get it all organized but, here we are!” Peter smiles proudly, looking at Tony to give him a featherlight kiss on his cheek. “You organized.. A-” his hands wavering in the air, “-pizza party. For me? Fuck, baby… That’s, wow.” Tony has to shake his head slightly, trying to collect his thoughts. No one has ever organized such a thoughtful thing before. “Do you like it?” “Yes. Yes, Peter, this is perfect.” He breaks out into a wide grin. “But please, tell me you didn’t order a pizza with pineapple.” Peter grins sheepishly and Tony groans. “You hurt my Italian pride, baby.” “Hush, I’m not Italian. I’m allowed to sin. I got you the Spicy Chicken one though! Does that make up for it?” “I’ll make you make up for it.” Tony wriggles his eyebrows playfully and Peter snorts, turning to the other guests.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough guys,” Natasha laughs from a distance. “You do that when we’re gone.” Tony doesn’t miss how it makes the boy’s cheeks flush. It’s not embarrassment though. Oh. He grins, smacking Peter’s ass lightly. “I’m sure Peter wouldn’t mind.” “Tony!” Peter exclaims and laughs, but there’s something shimmering in his eyes. Tony grins. He’s had his suspicions for a while. He doesn’t say anything about it. For now. But an idea is definitely starting to form in his head. Natasha grins at the both of them. “I know you two aren’t innocent, but, you’re not that kinky.” Tony smirks, lowering himself into one of the big leather chairs near the coffee table, thinking about all the possible snarky comments he could throw back at her. He didn’t expect soft, shy, innocent Peter to go first. “Ask me again in an hour, and I’ll spill all our dirty secrets, Agent Romanoff,” Peter grins, taking one of the pints from Thor’s hand and gulping it down. Someone wants to get tipsy. Natasha simply smirks. “I will. Mr. Parker.”

A few hours later, when everyone is properly buzzed from the alcohol, Peter’s seated on the floor, chatting about one of his science projects, a half eaten slice of pizza in his hand. The cheese is slowly falling down, but every time it nearly snaps, Peter catches it in his mouth, taking another bite. Bucky is sitting on the couch right behind him, slacked, legs slightly spread so Peter can use the couch as a back rest between Bucky’s knees. Bucky doesn’t know too much about whatever it is Peter’s rambling about, but he could listen to this kid for hours. Peter’s so passionate, and after three huge pints of whatever Thor’s having, the boy’s letting his thoughts run freely. Peter’s mid sentence on something about quantum physics or something like that, when Bruce clears his throat and leans back in his chair. “Hey Nat, think Pete’s got enough alcohol in his system for your interrogation?” Peter looks up startled, cheeks flushing instantly. Uh oh. He giggles. “Kid’s a bad liar, Nat, go easy on him,” Tony grins from the other side of the coffee table, still leaning against the big armrest. “Traitor!” Peter throws at him and Tony shrugs. “You asked for it, baby.”

Peter groans, pouting as he turns to Natasha, stuffing the rest of the pizza slice into his mouth in an attempt to silence himself. But fuck, it tastes good. And he’s nearly choking, so he does start chewing and swallows it all. “Can I have another slice, Bucky, please?” He asks, but Bucky shakes his head with a grin. “First you gotta answer.” He pats Peter on the shoulder with his metal hand and a shiver runs down Peter’s spine. “Alright. What do you want to know? I can tell you lots about Tony’s adorable moans and-” Natasha raises an eyebrow, causing him to shut up. Fuck. He’s probably a little too horny for this to not get inappropriate. Also maybe a little too tipsy. But he’s not sure whether he should stop it. He wants to see where this is headed.

“No- by all means,” Tony chuckles. “Keep going.” “Oh, please!” Sam exclaims. “Are we really doing this right now?” Nat cocks her head and she leans forward in her chair. “We sure are. You can leave if you want.” “Y’all are disgusting. I’m gonna grab another beer.” Sam stands up and walks towards the kitchen. Bucky leans forward in his seat and Peter presses his lips on top of each other, trying not to let the other man’s hot breath in his neck get to him. “Go fetch me one too, would ya?” He asks Sam. “Use your own legs.” The group laughs and Bucky drops himself back again. Peter’s eye twitches when the sound of Bucky’s metal hand running through his hair scratches the inside of his ear. The fact that Tony is staring intently at him, watching his every move, seeing what Bucky is doing to him has him throbbing in his pants. “Alright, I’m gonna get some fresh air. I don’t need this right now-” Stephen Strange gets up from his seat, shaking his head. “Or ever, to be honest.” Wanda gets up as well, Vision immediately following her out of loyalty.

“Was actually planning on getting some of that myself anyway, so we might as well join you.” When everyone who wanted to stay out of this has made their way outside, all eyes turn back to Peter. His heartbeat speeds up again immediately.

“Let’s start with an easy one,” Natasha says with a wide grin. “Who tops? Who bottoms?” Tony scoffs. “Isn’t that a little too easy, Nat?” he quips, cocking an eyebrow. “I intend to be surprised tonight.” Her eyes bore straight through Peter’s and he swallows. This is an easy question. Anyone who would’ve given it the slightest bit of thought knows the answer. “I only topped him once.” A few of the Avengers nod understanding. Tony licks his lips, thinking back to the Italian spa, and decides to give the boy some credit. “For the record, he’s really good at it.” Peter goes beet red and hides his face in the pillow he’s been cradling since the start of this conversation. “I prefer subbing, though,” he says muffled. He can feel a couple heartbeats speed up. Including Bucky’s. Oh, god. “Subbing?!” Clint exclaims. “You’re telling us you two are actually kinky?” Peter raises his head, the people around him are unsure if his cheeks are red from embarrassment or the Asgardian beer he’s been drinking. Maybe both.

“We have a jar with notes in it!” he exclaims, louder than he intended. “Helps us try new things.” Natasha laughs and leans back in her seat. “A jar filled with kinks?” She bites her lip. “Filthy, I like it.” Bucky chuckles behind Peter and the boy shivers. “We call it the Jar of Dirt,” Tony chimes in, rather proud. Bruce purses his lips. “A fitting name.” Tony nods, agreeing. “That’s what we thought.” “So,” Bucky leans forward again, angling himself so he can look at Peter’s side profile. Peter swallows when his senses pick up on the man’s every little move. “What’s the last thing you pulled out of it?” He presses his lips on top of each other, eyes wide. “Oooh, a good one?” Nat takes a sip from her beer. “Go on, doll, what didya grab?” Doll. Peter’s mouth is dry. Bucky called him doll. “Lingerie,” Peter whispers quietly. “Wha- we didn’t catch that.” Bucky grins. Peter knows Bucky heard. He just wants him to say it again and it has Peter stifling a moan. Instead of repeating his answer, he moves the pillow from his lap and toys with the hem of his sweatpants, lowering them far enough for everyone to see the black lacey tulle.

Peter hears Bucky’s breath catch at the sight and he quickly drags the pillow back into his lap before they all see just how hard he is. They probably already saw, though. The outline is hard to miss in those sweats. Peter takes a quick glance at Tony. The hot, dark gaze he’s met with tells him enough. Tony loves this as much as he does, showing off his pretty boy. “Tsk, now,” comes his low, deep voice. “Behave, baby. Can’t show off your ass just like that.” “M’sorry, da-!” Peter stops himself just in time and whimpers. “Y’all being mean!” “What were you gonna call me, baby? Tell them, Pete. Tell them who you belong to.” Tony’s voice is grounding, yet so demanding and authoritative that Peter just can’t help himself. He’s never been good with secrets and Bucky’s fingers trailing slow circles on his back doesn’t help at all. “D-daddy. I’m daddy’s.” “Ohh, look at you…” Bucky’s breath is warm against Peter’s skin. He scoots forward in his seat behind Peter, until his crotch is practically right next to Peter’s head. The man quickly glances at Tony and continues when the boy’s boyfriend sends him a nod of approval. He brings his face to Peter’s ear and Peter gasps when Bucky’s metal hand runs through Peter’s hair, tugging at it slightly. The cold vibranium sends small jolts of electricity through his body. The near-quiet but fast beating of the other man’s heart is evident behind him. He feels it. Every single thud. “You sure are daddy’s pretty boy, aren’t you?”

Peter wants to sob and he nods frantically. Painfully aware of everyone watching the both of them. None of them seem bothered, too buzzed by the alcohol to care. Heck, Peter can practically hear all their fast beating hearts and his eyes roll back as his senses are dialled even further up under the attention. He’s so incredibly turned on. It doesn’t help that Tony’s right there opposite him. Staring at them, licking his lips and seeing how Bucky’s metal fingers are now slightly curled around Peter’s throat. He loves it. Loves the attention. And fuck, most of the people in this room are turned on as well. He can feel it. Feel them. Nat, Steve, Bruce- They’re all disgustingly filthy and it only adds to Peter’s arousal. “Continue, Nat,” Tony’s voice breaking through the silence. She smirks and nods, taking another sip of her beer before continuing her interrogation.

Peter gasps when Tony pins him against their bedroom door, the other man’s mouth hot and rough on his own. Claiming him with his passionate kiss. Peter just takes it. He’s so ready. He’s tipsy and he’s horny and he just wants to feel the pleasure sparking throughout his entire body. “Mr-” “Hush, baby.” Tony breathes against his lips, tickling his fragile skin and sending a jolt down his spine. “Think you talked plenty, don’t you? Making daddy so hard.” His hands trail down his boy’s sides. Peter shivers into his touch. Leaning in, following Tony’s lead. He’s so sweet. So submissive already. “Y-You don’t mind? I mean, I. I don-” “Baby, if I would’ve minded I wouldn’t have let it happen. Fuck, loved it baby. Showing everyone how perfect you are. Perfect for me.”

He grabs Peter’s ass tightly, lifting the boy up and carrying him to their bed. He hovers over him, hands creeping underneath Peter’s shirt to be met with the smooth, soft skin that’s him. He growls, already knowing what he’s going to do to Peter. He needs… supplies, though. “Baby, listen to me carefully. I’m going to grab a couple things. I want you to take off those sweatpants and show me that lace, alright?” Peter swallows. He has no clue what Tony’s up to, but it sounds all the more promising like that. He watches Tony move up and away from him, leaning sideways to gather everything he needs from their nightstand. Peter wriggles out of his sweatpants, kicking it off his feet and hearing it drop to the floor. The cold air near-stinging on his legs. Fuck, he’s probably had a little too much of that Asgardian beer. His Spidey sense is all over the place. “Lose the shirt too, Pete,” Tony orders him without even looking. Peter whines and does so, throwing it aside. “What are you gonna do, daddy?” He asks breathlessly. “You’ll see, baby…” Tony mumbles, turning around with a soft, black blindfold resting in his hands. “Or actually, you won’t.” Peter gulps. They’ve never done anything like that before and damn, he’s so ready for it. Tony is eyeing him, gauging his reaction. Peter just nods, lips parting. “Please.”

“Turn around, hands and knees, darling.” Peter scrambles up right away, arching his back on purpose to give Tony a good view of the black lace hugging his ass tightly. “Can’t believe you showed off to all of them, sweetness.” Tony whispers, slowly sliding the blindfold over Peter’s eyes. The boy whimpers when everything goes dark, feeling how Tony’s fingers brush through his hair as he makes his way to tie the ends together. He’s shuddering. A mess already. “Stay down.” “Y-yes…” Peter stays put exactly where he is. Head hanging low, relishing in the helpless feeling that comes with not being able to see anything. His already on-edge senses shooting through the roof. He hears the air moving around Tony’s body as he moves. There’s soft noises in front of his face. Tony’s… Doing something with the headboard? Peter has no clue. He just hears how the man’s fingers occasionally tap against the wood. He just waits. Silently and still. Like a good boy. Gosh, he wants to be good for Tony. He’s aching for it. Aching for the praise.

Suddenly, Tony’s fingers tangle in Peter’s hair, gently tugging his head backwards. Peter’s breath hitches and his hips buck involuntarily. The smooth panties create the slightest bit of friction on his cock and he moans. “You like him. Don’t you?” Tony whispers, barely audible. But Peter hears him loud and clear. “W-what?” “Bucky. You’d let him fuck you, wouldn’t you?” Peter doesn’t know what to say. He can feel the blush creeping all the way down to his shoulders. It is so very obvious what his answer is. They both know it. But he isn’t sure whether he should admit it. “Say it. I want to hear you say it, Peter.” The boy gasps out loud, panting, when Tony drags his head up even further. His other hand creeping down Peter’s spine, leaving a cold trail of lube that has Peter shivering. Without warning, Tony tugs the panties aside and slips one of his fingers into him. He wants to jolt forward, but the grip on his hair is so tight that he’s held back. “Say it.” “I-I would let Bucky fuck me, Tony, I don’t-” Peter doesn’t know what happens next. Tony tugs on his hair, dragging his head forward. Something - a toy - slips into Peter’s mouth and it shuts him up right away. “Then suck him, Peter.”

Tony lets go of the boy’s curls and Peter moans, nearly sobbing in pleasure as he does as asked. Wrapping his lips around the toy and sucking on it. His mind flashes back to the way the man had dragged his metal fingers through his hair, the static between them, the way he’d threatened him by gripping his throat ever so gently. Doll. Tony’s fingers fill him up, stretching him so good, his fingers teasing around his prostate, only dragging across it lightly. He feels so full and Tony’s not even actually fucking him yet. But he knows the man will. “You’re gonna make Bucky come, baby? Make him throb and spill- all over that pretty face of yours?” Peter wants it. So bad. He knows it’s just a fucking toy but he can’t help sucking harder, bobbing his head up and down more passionately. He wonders what Bucky would sound like above him. Telling him how sweet he is for letting his daddy’s friend fuck him like that. The soft, broken moans falling from his lips as he would. He feels how Tony carefully removes his fingers, only for them to dig themselves into Peter’s hips harshly. He moans, hoping they’ll leave pretty dark bruises like last time. They don’t stain his skin for long but he enjoys every single minute of seeing them on his skin. As a sweet reminder of yet another amazing high.

“I’m gonna fuck you, Pete,” Tony growls from behind him, shifting closer. “Don’t you dare stop giving Bucky your full attention. Show him what a pretty slut you are.” With that, Tony pushes himself all the way in, pushing Peter further forward, the toy slipping deeper into his mouth. His muffled cry around it has Tony grunt and fuck into him mercilessly. “You’re gonna let the others watch as well, sweetness? Show them all how you like to be used by us? Hmmm?” Tony’s voice is everywhere and he can feel the way his pleasure starts building deep inside his gut. A tingling fire spreading towards his legs, nearly making them give out. “Gonna show Natasha all the details to our little kinks, uh? Have Bruce remember your filthy moans in case I shackle you to my desk once more?” Peter wants it. He wants it all. “Gonna ride Bucky’s hard cock while I watch you, honey? Would you do that?” Peter nods, as far as the toy in his mouth allows him too. His jaw’s hanging slack as he lets Tony fuck him forward, setting the pace. His lips sliding over the toy as he does so. He can feel some drool dripping down his chin but he honest to god doesn’t care anymore.

His mind is shattered. All he sees is their faces. Hears their supposed groaning in his ears. His imagination flaring all his dirty little fantasies at him without pause. Natasha sitting on his face as he eats her out, his own cock hard but ignored. She wouldn’t make him come. Would make him wait and beg. He sees himself sucking Tony’s cock while kneeling under the sturdy desk, Bruce at the other side of it knowing exactly what’s going on. He sees Steve, standing in front of him - tall and strong and powerful - while he kneels and takes his come all over his chest.

And then, Tony’s hand wraps around his cock, jerking him off so hard, so fast, that all the images just turn into a white flickering light in his mind as he comes. Hips bucking wildly in Tony’s steady grip. “G-Good boy. Fuck. Peter.” Tony leans in, his hand tangling in Peter’s hair once more as he slams into him again and again and again. Peter just takes it. Wants to take it. Wants Tony to fill him up and make him drip like the filthy boy he is. He’s moaning softly, lips still grazing around the toy. He couldn’t let go of it even if he’d want to. “M… St…” He tries to mumble the man’s name. “Ple-zz.” “Yes, baby. I- Fuck. I-” Tony’s loud groan fills the room, ringing in Peter’s ears when the man pushes forward once more. His cock jerking inside his body, making Peter clench around it as he takes it all. “Peter…” Tony collapses on top of him. Shaking. The grip in his hair loosening. The boy’s no longer being pushed forward and he lets the toy slip out, finally, his jaw aching and tight from holding open all that time, but he loves the strain. He drops his head onto the mattress in front of him, panting. Trying to catch his breath.

“Fuck.” Is all he manages to say after a couple of seconds. Tony lets out a breathy chuckle, slowly moving both their bodies down onto their sides and hugging Peter from behind tightly. His arms are warm and secure; Peter nestles closer. “Fuck indeed, baby.” Tony’s hands move up to undo the blindfold and Peter squeezes his eyes shut to keep the too bright light out of his system for just a bit longer. The other man grabs the blankets, pulling them up over their still slightly trembling bodies. “Thank you, Mr. Stark.” “Shhh, baby. I enjoyed it just as much.” “R-Really?” “Really.” He plays with the boy’s curls for a bit. “You know I don’t like to share, but fuck, Pete, you should’ve seen the hungry look on everyone’s faces tonight. On Bucky’s face. He knew damn well you’re mine and mine alone and I’d make him know it if he were actually here right now.” Peter smiles and makes himself smaller, keeping his eyes closed. “M-yours, daddy,” he mumbles. “My sweet baby,” Tony sighs, pressing a kiss on Peter’s hair. “I love you.”

--- More: Chapter 13 Masterpost

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yastaghr · 4 years

Text

Kinktober Day 20

Pairing: Nightmare/Blue, Killer/Blue, Horror/Blue, Slayer/Blue, Cross/Blue, Sanscest

Kinks: A/B/O, begging, courtship, consent, doggy style

Warnings: Borderline Sui thoughts, poor self image, mentioned cannibalism, mentioned incest

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20851682/chapters/53063083

Or read below!

Horror growled at Slayer over Blue’s head. How dare this uppity Beta try to steal an Omega from him? He was an Alpha, damn it. Slayer knew that. Why would he be so disrespectful as to do this?

“Fucking hell, Horror, let go of him! I saw this cutie first, so I get to keep him. You already have Sugar and Lust to take care of. Fuck off!” Slayer almost screamed as he yanked on Blue’s arm.

“You’re just a fucking Beta,” Horror said, voice dangerously low, “Why should you get to keep such a gorgeous monster? He’s the perfect addition to my pack. So petite, so cute...I just have to have him!”

Neither of them noticed Blue’s face. He was flushed with his heat, yes, and burning up. But tears were pouring down his face and his sockets were empty. He was stuck on their words. Cutie. Gorgeous. Perfect. Petite. Cute. He was none of those things. He was a filthy bicycle that his whole world had taken a ride on. The only thing he deserved was-

Magic engulfed him and he felt himself switching places suddenly. He collapsed to the floor without two hormonal monsters fighting over him like a rope toy. He could see them in the distance. In between them was a smiling Cross. He winked at Blue as hands engulfed Blue. One wrapped around his back. The other tucked under his legs. He was lifted up and moved quickly. When his panicked face turned to see who had him, he was met with the blank visage of Killer. He shuddered away from the void of emotions and curled up into himself, crying. At least Killer was the most likely to give him what he wanted.

When Killer turned into the main den, Blue smelled it. An overpowering musky odor filled the air. It smelled like sweat-soaked sheets and shady alleys. Somehow, though, it wasn’t a scary odor. It felt… confident. Collected. Controlled.

Blue looked up into the huge eye of Nightmare and gulped. Yeah, the rut smell was definitely coming from him.

Killer, who was holding him, said, “i brought you a snack, boss. i could almost see the negative energy radiating off him. need me to get anything for you before i go tell off the fighting assholes in the kitchen?”

Nightmare’s tentacles wrapped around Blue gently, bringing him over to a pile of blankets and pillows and… just letting him go?

“No, just get those annoying imbeciles out of my castle for the next week. I’ll call you if I need anything. Get lost,” Nightmare said gruffly. Killer saluted and exited the den, leaving Blue and Nightmare alone in the room. Nightmare lumbered into an overstuffed chair across the room from Blue and watched him. “So. Blue. Go ahead and make your nest. I won’t touch it, and I know you need one. I’ll just be guarding the door.”

Blue slowly started moving pillows and blankets. His eyes never left Nightmare. What he ended up with was more of a fort than a nest, with a blanket roof and pillow walls. Blue crawled into it backwards and settled down. He felt… better. Safer. Respected.

Nightmare smiled at him. “I’m sorry those two were so rude to you. They don’t understand that compliments aren’t always a good thing, and they bicker constantly. I couldn’t help but feed off your despair. You really don’t think well of yourself, do you?”

Blue saw no reason to lie, so he nodded. He was lower than the scum on Nightmare’s boots. He didn’t understand why he was bothering to talk to him. As an Alpha in rut facing an Omega in heat, shouldn’t he be holding him down while he fucked him ruthlessly? That was what had happened in all of Blue’s other heats.

Nightmare chuckled. “That’s okay. I’m not gonna lie, that shit turns me on. But you don’t have to look at me like I’m going to rape you. Despite what my brother and that rainbow asshole think, I’m all about consent. I’m not going to touch you until I’m absolutely sure you want it.”

Blue’s jaw dropped open. What? That kind of talk was reserved for courting behaviour. Blue wasn’t worth courting. He was just a toy.

“Mmh, I can taste your emotions. You’re so bright for someone so dark in their heart. I like that. I need a little brightness around here. Those bozos certainly don’t provide it. So, what do you say to being my mate, little Blue?”

Blue shook his head. “You don’t want me. You don’t know what I’ve done. I-”

Nightmare chuckled. “I feed off negative emotions, Blue. I have a pack of murderers and cannibals for friends. There is nothing you could have done that would make me revolt. I want you because of all that. You’ve seen the darkest a world can be, and yet you still shine a little light everywhere you go.”

“I’ve been paid to-” Blue began.

“-Get raped? I know, Blue. I’m not going to do that to you. I want to keep you all to myself and my stupid ass pack. They all want you, even if they’re awful at showing it. Please, come be our pack Omega. We need one, and you fit us perfectly. I’ll get on my knees if I have to. What is it going to take?”

Blue shivered. This was wrong. He must be hallucinating. There’s no way that Nightmare would ever beg him… right?

Wrong. Nightmare, with a great deal of creaking and groaning, got down on his knees and clasped his hands. “I’ll do anything I have to if it means I get you, little Blue. I’ll kill anyone. Destroy anything. Hell, I’d even reform and turn myself in to your little Star Sanses.”

Blue gulped. There was one thing. One big thing… “WILL YOU… HELP ME HEAL MY DAD? PLEASE?”

Nightmare blinked at him. “That’s all you want? Really? Well… I suppose I can leave the offer open. I’m sure my boys wouldn’t mind kidnapping Life herself in order to make you happy. And if you think of anything else, ever, we’ll do it. Okay?”

Blue nodded. That was really all he could think of doing, but oh well. Nightmare seemed sincere, and… it would be nice to have a pack to care for and an Alpha to protect him. Even though he didn’t deserve them… “Yes. Um...how do you want me to present?”

Nightmare’s face lit up. “Just come out here, little Blue. I’ll handle the rest.”

Blue nodded and crawled out of his little nest. Maybe that was another thing. It would be nice to be able to build the nest he’d always dreamed of. But he could ask for that later. Right now his heat had reached a point where even moving was painful because of the friction of his clothes.

Nightmare’s tentacles sharpened and made quick work of those. Soon Blue’s too-thin ecto-body and cushy cunt were on display. Blue couldn’t see Nightmare’s face, but the fingers prying him open wide made Blue shiver. Then he felt a cool liquid hit his pussy. It wasn’t anything like Nightmare’s black goop. What was it?

He must have made some sort of noise because Nightmare laughed. “Heh. Did you really think I was going to take you without lube? I want you to enjoy this, my Omega. I always want you to enjoy this.”

Blue blinked. That was new. “OKAY? WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO TO MAKE THAT HAPPEN, ALPHA?”

“Just relax and let your voice run free,” Nightmare commanded softly.

Then he pushed into Blue and pure white overtook him. Nightmare was so big, but he wasn’t hard as a rock. He curved a little, and that little bit of a curl made him hit a spot in Blue that just lit him up inside. “AH!”

Blue could almost hear the smirk as Nightmare said, “Knew I’d find it. Here we go, Blue. Let me show you how a real Alpha treats his Omega.”

Then Nightmare set a pace that left Blue gasping for air between moans. Every thrust hit his good spot perfectly; not too hard, not too soft, just right. Blue could feel himself rocking forward on his hands and knees. He tried to push back to stay upright. Nightmare’s slick hands grabbed his hips and steadied him into the thrusts.

“Fuck, Blue, you’re so warm! It feels so good, I just- Hah. I can’t hold back anymore. Here we go, Blue!” Nightmare growled. Then he really began pounding into Blue. Every thrust was hard and strong, but they came so fast that the light in his head overlapped. It built up and up and up until Blue finally reached the point where his body clamped down on the dick inside him and shuddered with the aftershocks of a massive orgasm.

Goopy tentacles stroked every inch of him while Nightmare whispered, “That’s it, my little Omega. Cum for me. Soak up every bit of my magic.”

It was only then that Blue noticed the familiar feeling of cum splattering across his vagina. For once it felt… nice. Cool. Calming. His hormones took it in and calmed him down from the raging fever to a manageable level. Blue found himself being turned around on the dick locked inside him and cuddled to Nightmare’s chest.

“UM...NIGHTMARE?” Blue asked quietly.

“Yes, my little Blue?”

“WERE YOU SERIOUS ABOUT… WANTING TO COURT ME?” Blue flinched like he was going to get slapped.

Nightmare leaned down and kissed him softly on the top of his head. “Yes I did, Omega. I want you to be mine. I meant every word of what I said. I’m not going to abandon you.”

Blue cuddled into his arms, happy for the first time in a long while. “GOOD. BECAUSE I DON’T THINK YOU COULD GET ME OUT WITH A METRIC TON OF LUBE.”

#undertale kinktober #kinktober #kinktober 2019 #nightmare's gang #sanscest #undertale lemon #lemon #see warnings on to[p #yastaghr

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hoodie-lover · 4 years

Text

My Multiverse Part 42

Dream and Nightmare hugged for what felt like a few minutes. Then, a now crying Dream pulled himself off his brother and looked at his new outfit.

“How does that stuff not get everywhere?” Dream asked, his clothes covered in Nightmare’s black goop.

“It’s a conscious effort. It will if I’m not thinking ‘Don’t get everywhere’ subconsciously or consciously.” Nightmare explained, sighing as he willed the goop of Dream’s clothes and it was absorbed.

“Cool.” Dream commented, “Useful too.” He said as well and Nightmare laughed.

“It does help when you need to bring someone closer to you, but it’s a hassle to get it to do what you want sometimes. This stuff has a mind of its own.” Nightmare said and Dream laughed.

Cross and Fresh looked at them, seeing how they were talking and laughing. It made them happy that Nightmare was happy, but there were more important matters at hand.

“What are we going to do about Ink?” Cross asked, shifting his weight to one leg and crossing (heh) his arms.

“We need to see if anyone is free from Ink’s control. That’ll be mostly minor AUs and newer AUs, but I’m 99% sure that the rest of the Dark Sanses, and Blue, Geno, and Sci are also working to stop Ink. So we need to know what they are planning and coordinate with them.” Dream reasoned.

“I’d say the best bet is to go to the original universe. We’ll be able to gather allies there and make a plan.” Nightmare suggested and everyone nodded. “Now we just need Maxie to let us out.” He finished and Dream looked confused. “Maxie is the resident voice in our heads that helps us out. She apparently has no physical form and likes to help out.” Nightmare explained and Dream nodded, still very confused.

“Hello dearies~!” Maxie called out and Dream screamed.

“Who are you?!” Dream cried out and everyone started laughing.

“I am Maxie. And though accurate, I am not the biggest fan of Nightmare’s description of me.” Maxie said, scoffing.

“O-ok. What do you want?” Dream asked, looking around the anti-void.

“I want you to beat Ink! Right now I will be sending y’all to the original world to talk with Sci, Geno, Blue, Classic, and the other originals. The rest of the Dark Sanses are busy with something unrelated but very crucial to beating Ink.” She explained and Dream nodded hastily.

A large portal opened up and everyone gasped as they saw Cross, Nightmare, Fresh, and Dream.

“What do you want?!” Geno screamed as he aimed a blaster at them.

“Ink ain’t got us! We’re here to help you beat him!” Nightmare yelled and Dream gave the smallest ya in the background.

“Prove it.” Undyne said, summoning a spear.

Dream summoned his soul and showed the glowing golden apple, in its full round and shining glory. “I want Ink to pay for what he has done to me and everyone else.” Dream said as he dispelled his soul.

“Keep the portal open and only come in when you are about to glitch out.” Sci said and they nodded.

“Alright. So what are the Dark Sanses doing?” Dream asked, laying on his stomach on the anti-void ground.

“Getting rid of something and testing a theory.” Sci said, and it was clear he was being vague on purpose, you never know who you can trust.

“Ok.” Dream said, kicking his feet and resting his hands on his arms. He also began to hum a small tune, unknowingly setting off a small burst of his aura.

“Woah.” Undyne said, holding her head in one hand as she got dizzy.

“Sorry!” Dream cried out, backing away from the portal in a hurry.

“What is he talking about?” Asgore asked, and Nightmare answered.

“It’s his aura. Both him and I can set off an aura that can induce positive and negative emotions respectively. The strength depends on the strength of our own emotions, how much we want to release, and our overall health.” Nightmare explained.

“So getting dizzy is a side effect of…?” Alphys asked, fiddling with her glasses.

“Dream. I’m Nightmare, the rainbow guy is Fresh and our monochrome chocolate lover is Cross.” Nightmare said and Cross was about to speak up but decided not to.

“I-I have some chocolate-” Alphys said, holding up a bar, but Cross had jumped out of the portal, grabbed the candy bar and reentered the anti-void before she could finish.

“What?” Cross said, taking a bite out of the delicious brown candy. “I was part of the guard, I have to be fast.” Cross explained and Papyrus’ eyes lit up.

“You were in the guard?! A non-lazy Sans-” Papyrus was said but was interrupted by Fresh, Nightmare, Dream, and Sci.

“We’re not lazy!” They said in unison, and Papyrus sighed.

“How did you become part of the guard?” Papyrus asked and Cross’ eyes flashed red.

“Oh no.” Nightmare said as Chara giggled.

“It helps when the person who can OVERWRITE the timeline wants you to be that way.” His body glitched out and Chara was there, holding the OVERWRITE button in their hand.

Cross came back and glared. “Really Chara? You have to freak them out?” He scolded, and back and forth they went, their body glitching and each of them scolding each other and insulting one another.

Nightmare shrugged at what happened as he looked at Asgore. “Alternate versions.” He said as the two kept on bickering.

Asgore left the room silently and Undyne chased after him. “Papyrus, I leave you in charge.” She said and Papyrus saluted.

“I won’t let you down!” Papyrus said.

Characters belong to their respective owners

First

#undertale #fanfic #sans #papyrus #undyne #asgore #nightmare sans #cross sans #fresh sans #dream sans #xtale chara #my multiverse

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kylorengarbagedump · 5 years

Text

No Accounting for Taste (NSFW)

Read on AO3.

Summary: Where the eyes should be, there is a void bordered by rows of chrome lines, and the mouth is muzzled by a flat, carbon slate. It is as human as it is inhuman, an echo of something familiar, like the look of death on the face of a stranger.

Heart pounding, you speak, your voice creaking inside of your throat. “What the fuck is happening?”

The voice that responds crackles inside the mask, mutated and mechanical. “Something very unfortunate for you.”

Word Count: 7100 (oops)

Warnings: Literally everything. This is NSFL. Rape, verbal abuse, literal torture, graphic violence, death. This is a Red Room fic.

Characters: Kylo Ren x (Fat!)Reader A/N: Hello, and welcome to the actual Worst Thing I've Ever Written. I went through this for a few reasons--one, just to prove to myself that I could, two, out of spite, and three, to gift this work to my beautiful friend @daddyrenn / @rosalinaballerina. She has listened to and supported me for like, years now, which is crazy, and I realized I never wrote her anything to thank her. So, here ya go, cupcake. I love you so much, and I hope you enjoyed this.

I also hope that whoever else enjoys gross nasty shit like this enjoyed it. It was really cathartic for me to write, so, I'm happy to put it out there for anyone else. Love y'all so much! Thank you for all of your support all these years. <3

laetus_lacrimosa: when’s the show starting?

blueeyeswhited: are you new here? he’s always late

laetus_lacrimosa: it’s been 30 minutes already

xwaifusayorix: yup

laetus_lacrimosa: i’m paying how much for some dickhead who’s always late?

mg3453: hopefully not as much as the rest of us

kyloren has logged in.

kyloren: Five minutes. Bidding at .52 btc begins now.

kyloren: Any other complaints will be addressed by me. In person.

kyloren has logged out.

A droplet of water hits your forehead, and your eyes open. The lights are still on, but you are alone.

The roof is leaking, and not just over your bed, but in several spots across the room. You’re not particularly surprised--you hadn’t paid a fortune for the hostel, but to wake up to cold rain was still not an expected consequence. Sighing, you sit up, wipe your head, and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. Thankfully, your mattress is entombed in plastic.

Your brain spins. You’d wanted to sleep through the storm, but it doesn’t seem like that will be an option. And you’re not sure if you can manage sitting on your bed, alone, for the next however many hours. The last time you’d tried it, your legs ended up with a bunch of knife-slashes from the three-inch blade you keep in your backpack. The rest of your hostelmates have abandoned you, apparently, but there’s no surprise there. A knot in your throat grows thick. You can’t run away from your inferiority.

Planting your face in your hands, you draw in a deep breath, hoping the air will quell the burgeoning volcano in your chest. They left because you had said you wanted to sleep. That doesn’t mean you’re inherently uninvited from wherever they went. In fact, you could get up and meet them right now, if you wanted. And want you do.

You stand, shaking the jitters out of your fingers, and step through the sleeping quarters to the living area. Under the heavy rhythm of rain, you hear music, like a stereo blasting from inside a wave--and in its direction, flashing, rainbow lights. A party. A grin tugs at the corners of your lips. That didn’t sound like such a bad way to pass the time. Better than sitting in your room, alone. You snatch a hoodie from your bag and slip on your flip flops before darting through the storm, skipping over stone and sloshing in the tiny puddles already pooling in the grass. And after a few hops, you see it, beyond the curtains of rain: a tent, a safehouse by the shore.

By the time you reach it, your grin is erupting into a full smile, laughter eking out of you as you pull the hood off your head. You can’t remember the last time you’d run through the rain. And as the lights splash onto your face, you realize that you can’t remember the last time you’d danced, either. The music is spirited and electric, a classic reggaeton beat under lyrics in a language you don’t understand. Before you know it, you’re sliding further into the tent, looking for familiar faces, your hips rolling to the beat

You spot a younger woman you’d shared a few light-hearted conversations with this afternoon--she looks totally trashed, but she’s definitely having a good time. Hopefully, being drunk allows her to be even more forgiving of your social awkwardness. But before you reach her, a hand on your shoulder halts you, and you yelp into the noise, whirling around to face the intruder.

“Evening,” he says, sounding as if he’d somehow whispered into your ear from feet away. “Thought you wouldn’t make it.”

“Hey, yeah, I did!” You search his face, brow furrowed. It’s a handsome face--hazel eyes, dark hair, full, pink lips--and it’s on top of a tall, muscular frame. But somehow, you don’t remember him. You’re more self-centered than you thought. “I’m so sorry, can you remind me who you are?”

A tight grin crosses his face, and your name rolls off of his tongue in mock-disappointment. “Really? I’m hurt.”

“Aw, no!” Frowning, you latch onto his forearm, trying to placate him. It’s thick and firm in your grip, and a shudder crawls up your spine. “I’m so sorry! I’ve just been… kind of off. Remind me, please!”

Smiling, he tugs you closer, and your cheeks grow hotter. “It’s Kylo.”

You nod. “Ohh, okay! Hi, Kyle!”

“No,” he says, “Ky-lo.”

“What?” Your face twists, and you turn your ear toward him. “Kylo?”

“Yes,” he replies, and his breath brushes your face. “You’ve got it.”

Hiding an idiotic giggle, you inch back. “This is kind of cool, huh?” What you can’t hide is how your gaze travels his body. All he has on are black jeans and a black t-shirt that clings to his thick chest and arms. Fuck, he’s built. “I mean, uh, the party.”

“The what?”

You cup your hands around your mouth, shouting over the music. “The party!”

“It is.”

Kylo stands there, staring, his eyes like voids, absorbing every flash of color in the tent. Under his gaze, your heart throbs, and in the back of your skull, the reptilian bit of your brain catches flame, screaming. But you can’t figure out what it’s telling you. Is it to run? Or to stay?

“Let’s dance,” he says, and barely waits for your nod before he curls one of his large, strong hands around yours and spins your back against his chest. Now you are on fire, your hips rocking with his, your face ready to melt when he leans his lips close to your ear. “Have you ever been to El Salvador before?”

“No!” Heat courses through you when you realize how loud you’ve been. The black-sand beaches of El Salvador weren’t your first choice for a runaway destination. But they happened to fit the three primary criteria: cheap, secluded, and U.S. dollar-friendly. Squeezing his hand, you tilt your head. “I mean, um, no.”

“Really? I come here all the time.” Kylo tugs you closer. The air seems thicker, now. “It’s beautiful.”

“I think so too.” Your palm is slippery, and you adjust your grip again.

Kylo’s mouth scrapes the shell of your ear. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

Silent, you nod.

He leads you through the rain back to the hostel, through the living area and into the sleep quarters. You wait by the doorway as he saunters over to his bag, his shirt sticking to the rippling muscles in his back. Holding a sigh, you chew your lip. Kylo reaches into his backpack and pulls out a wine bottle--it’s wrapped and corked, brand-new--and urges you over with a nod. Lizard-brain wailing, you oblige.

“Where are you from?” Kylo is peeling the foil from the bottleneck while he speaks.

You glance at your feet. “The States.”

“Mhm.” The foil floats to the floor. “You must think I’m an idiot.”

“What?” Head snapping up, you meet his gaze. It’s empty. “No, no. Not at all. What?”

“I meant where in the States.” His fist is tight around the wine. “Given your accent, though--New Jersey?”

“Philadelphia.” Blush creeps onto your cheeks.

“Really,” he says. “Say w-a-t-e-r.”

Your lips twist into a mock-frown. “Wuder.”

Something twitches on his face. A grin, you think. “Right.” Kylo twists the cork, easing it free. “What does your family think of you traveling alone?”

“Oh.” Your thoughts tangle. For some reason, you want to lie. “They, uh, they’re okay with it.”

“Hm.” A pause, and he locks you in his stare again. “They don’t know, do they?”

“Um…” A swift twist and tug, and the cork pops out. You flinch. “No,” you admit. “They don’t.”

Kylo shrugs. “No shame in that.” He sits on the bed, beckoning you with a nod. “Sit. Have a drink.”

You gnaw your lip again, looking at your backpack. You consider grabbing your knife, just in case. He’s incredibly fucking hot, and you’d love nothing more than to hop on what you are sure is his massive dick, but something about it seems wrong. But you aren’t sure if what you’re feeling is real discomfort, or your own fucked-up brain working to deny anything good might ever happen to you.

“I don’t know… Something seems weird about a strange drink from a strange man.”

Kylo smirks. “You saw me open it. And besides…” He pauses to take a long swig, the knot in his throat bobbing with each gulp, and then pulls off with a short gasp. You find yourself wanting to swallow, too. “I hope that’s satisfactory.”

Sweat beads at your nape. “Uh…” Shrugging, you shuffle over and sit next to him. He radiates heat. After the rain, that seems particularly inviting. “Sure. Why not.”

You wet your lips and tip the edge of the bottle into your mouth, the lukewarm liquid spilling out. It’s tart and dry with a lingering salty tang, and you wince as you swallow, smacking your tongue against your palate. You pause for a moment, waiting for the inevitable wooziness and unconsciousness to hit--but they don’t. Maybe he isn’t full of shit. Warmth ebbs through you, and you look over at him, holding out the wine.

“Weird taste. What is that?”

His eyes scan your figure. “You didn’t like it.”

“No, no,” you say, shaking your head. “That isn’t it. It’s just weird and salty. I’ve never had anything like that before.”

“Hm.” Kylo blinks, gaze flitting to the bottle, then back to you. He takes it from you and has another drink, imitating you by smacking his tongue. “That’s what it is.” He does it again. “You’re aerating it. Don’t do that.”

You raise a brow. “Really? I’ve never heard of that before.”

“There’s no accounting for taste.”

“Oh, shut up.” You roll your eyes. “You’re fucking with me.”

He presents the bottle. “Try it.”

Pouting, you grab it, taking a long, slow drink, and pull off, fighting the urge to--how did it he put it?--aerate. But you still taste salt. Your brow furrows, and you look at him. The sirens in the back of your head are deafening, now, and you swallow, fingers starting to tremble. You glance at the wine, but the label is in Spanish.

“Um, hey, so… what… what is this? This wine?”

Kylo’s blank gaze meets yours. “Oh. Right. I forgot you asked.”

“Yeah. I did.” Your heart slams against your ribcage.

“It’s gammahydroxybutyrate.”

Shaking your head, you play it over in your head. “Gammahydro--what? What? Kylo--” You reach for him, but you miss. “What the fuck?”

He is flat. “Ecstasy.”

The next thing you remember is hitting the floor.

Darkness is torn from your face, and a matrix of light blinds you, pain leaking from you in gasps as your ears are swallowed by a shrieking whine. Groaning, you shift, attempting to jerk away from the brightness beyond your lids, but your arms stall, your body rocking into the chair. Wait--the chair? You kick, but your legs strain against the bonds around your calves. Wincing, you bow your head, waiting for the ringing in your skull to die before you even try to remember what the hell happened. Then, shade, interrupting the assault on your eyes, cooling your skin for a brief moment. A grunt escapes you; your lids flutter open.

Light is a halo around shadow, the figure in front of you the shape of a man, if men are shaped how you remember. Your vision is water, the sound dull, like you’ve been plunged into a shallow tub. But as it clears, you make out details. He is tall, broad, muscled, wearing… black. A black tank top, black leather pants, black boots, all melting in the murky slime of your brain. The one detail you can’t discern is his face--because it is obscured by a mask. Where the eyes should be, there is a void bordered by rows of chrome lines, and the mouth is muzzled by a flat, carbon slate. It is as human as it is inhuman, an echo of something familiar, like the look of death on the face of a stranger.

Heart pounding, you speak, your voice creaking inside of your throat. “What the fuck is happening?”

The voice that responds crackles inside the mask, mutated and mechanical. “Something very unfortunate for you.”

“What? What are you talking about?” You want to shout, but every bit of effort you make to speak or move is tripled against the weight of your scrambling consciousness. “Let me go. Please. What the fuck is happening?”

He is silent. Your gaze darts around the room--the floor is dirt, the walls are blank, and there isn’t a single window that you can see. To your right, a large, flat screen displays text… lines of it, you think, discussing something. A chatroom. You see one of the names--kyloren--and your blood turns to ice.

El Salvador. The wine. Ecstasy.

Kylo.

Before you can speak, your gaze catches the lines on the screen moving, talking. And they’re talking about you.

laetus_lacrimosa: i love how fucking scared she looks

blueeyeswhited: it’s awesome. she has no idea what’s about to happen

gawinulim11490: what are the limits?

mg3453: are you serious?

xwaifusayorix: lol

Your stomach lurches, and Kylo moves, the light burning your vision again. You squint while your pupils adjust, and see that he’s walked to a terminal where a camera and laptop are arranged. The acid in your belly roars like a wave, eroding your esophagus and singeing the back of your throat, and your chin quivers, quakes resonating to your toes. Fighting your fear, you overcompensate, instead, and glare at the camera, hocking a thick wad of mucus and spitting it at your captor. It falls short, a glob in the dirt. Kylo doesn’t seem to even notice, but the chatroom has.

blueeyeswhited: she’s an animal

gawinulim11490: like every other female who doesn’t get her way. strip them of their privileges and they resort to this.

xwaifusayorix: lmao are you an incel

kyloren: Bidding begins at .29 btc. Open now for the next 30 seconds.

As he types this, the screen explodes with chatter. From what you can tell, there are five people in this room, watching you. Bidding on something. They spit out different numbers, trying to one-up each other in a value you don’t recognize. .88 btc, 1.46, 2.19. The integers climb and climb.

laetus_lacrimosa: 2.93 to strip her and cut her fucking nipples off.

xwaifusayorix: oh shit

mg3453: yeah i withdraw, i wanna see that lol

Breath flies out of you, and you choke. “What? What the fuck? What the fuck is this? What the fuck?”

kyloren: Going once. Twice.

No other person speaks.

kyloren: 2.19 btc to watch. Beginning now.

Kylo clicks something, and the chatroom changes. One, two, three of the people who had been in the previous room appear in this one. Kylo appears to adjust the camera pointed at you and turns, pulling a knife from his belt.

You whip your head back and forth, straining at your bonds, toes digging into the dirt, hips twisting to rock the chair. “No, please, stop, what are you doing. Please stop. Kylo, or whatever your name is. Please don’t do this. Please--”

He doesn’t appear to respond, but grabs the back of the chair, stilling it while he slides the knife underneath your shirt. The metal is ice on your skin, and you shiver, whimpering as tears blur your vision. You can’t stop your chin from trembling, your heart from wanting to explode out of your chest. Kylo turns the blade to the ceiling and rips, standing to the side so the camera catches when your belly, chest, and breasts are uncovered. Noise wants to escape you, but it doesn’t--you can only whisper as the tip of the knife shreds the hem of your top.

“Please… please stop…”

If he is moved in any way by your display, his only reaction is to tear the fabric to the side, making sure the entirety of your torso is exposed for the three strangers watching you on camera. Snot slips out of your nose, and you whimper, a chill washing over you. Kylo stares at you--or at least, you think he is. The inability to identify any hint of humanity from his facade makes your blood run faster.

The pause is only brief, however. He grabs the chair again, and slips the tip of his knife underneath your shorts. You want to struggle, but the threat of a blade against your belly paralyzes your limbs. All you do is sob while slices open the front of your shorts, digging the knife into the fabric of your crotch until the mound of your pussy peeks out. You thank your stars that you’re fat enough that your belly sits on top of your thighs, but Kylo sighs.

“I forgot how fucking fat you were.”

Growling, he takes the knife and rips open the hems on your sides, tearing the fabric away so that your front is now completely naked to the camera. After that, he bends forward, working at the bonds at your feet, and for a moment, there is a tease of relief. The ropes--or zipties, or something, you can’t tell--come off, and your heart roars with adrenaline. You pitch forward, attempting to leap up, but the chair only squeaks, and Kylo’s head snaps toward you.

“Fuck you!” With a shriek, you try to drive a heel into his shoulder, but he snatches your ankle in a large, gloved hand, and before you even move your other leg, that one is seized, his strength so overpowering that you wilt in his grip, collapsing against the chair.

You realize that was his goal, now, all along, while he spreads your legs wider, revealing your cunt to the camera. Another sob wells up in your chest, and you wiggle in protest, feeling helpless as he rebinds you to the chair. Under his breath, you hear him laughing.

“There we go,” he murmurs. “It’s so much easier when you behave.”

“Fuck you.” Your breath shudders in your chest. “Please stop.”

Through your tears, you glance over at the chat--and immediately wish you hadn’t.

blueeyeswhited: christ she’s so fucking disgusting--her body is a fucking mess. has anyone ever actually fucked that? lmfao

mg3453: her tits are fucking embarrassing. she’s in her 20s and they’re already sagging to her pussy

gawinulim11490: are you kidding. her tits have looked like that since she was a teenager. her body is just fucked up.

laetus_lacrimosa: females actually do this to themselves

The terror and anguish inside of you boils, and you glance over at Kylo. You see nothing but a silhouette of darkness.

“Fuck you! Fuck all of you!” You’re spitting, now, snot and saliva soaring from your face. “You’re all sick pieces of shit! Fucking sick misogynistic pieces of shit!”

xwaifusayorix: LMFAO

blueeyeswhited: “misogynist” is she a fucking feminist LOL

gawinulim11490: yes she is, but she doesn’t know the first thing about it. she’s a fucking idiot.

You hate that person in particular. They seem to know you. They talk about you like they’re an expert. You glare at the camera.

“Fuck you, whoever you are. I swear to god, when I get out of here, you will fucking pay for this!”

xwaifusayorix: lol

mg3453: well it makes sense that she looks like that now if she’s a feminist

laetus_lacrimosa: cutting off her nipples will be an improvement

Out of the corner of your eye, Kylo moves toward you, and you snarl. “Fuck you. Don’t even come near me.”

“You have no choice in that matter.”

He tosses the knife, catching it by the handle, and grips the chair again. Heart in your throat, you cry out, thrashing against your bindings, muscles tensing and untensing as words and spit fly, unfiltered.

“Please! Please, fuck no! Don’t do this! Don’t fucking do this Kylo please fuck don’t do this! Please!”

Underneath the mask, you hear a low, quiet laugh. Kylo stands behind you, steadies the chair against his body, and grabs one of your tits, pulling the skin of your areola taut. Your breath is rapid, drool streaming out of your mouth as you scream again, begging him to spare you. He brings the knife to your flesh, and you thrash, trying to slam your head back into his hips, hoping to knock him off balance.

Grunting, he crushes your breast in his hand, making you squeak. “Might not be smart to struggle while I have a knife so close to your chest.”

Face crumpling, you release a shuddering whine, tensing as you watch the knife pierce your flesh.

Searing pain streaks through your nerves, echoing in your fingers and toes, and you screech, throwing your head back in broken sobs while cuts through the layers of skin. A warm fluid spills down your abdomen, pooling in the crevices of your thighs and dripping onto the floor. Your teeth pinch your lower lip, lids shut tight as he carves through you, jolts of hot pain hitting you with each millimeter of skin removed. You can’t decide if you want to go to sleep or wake up.

Your breast flops against your stomach as the last bit of your flesh is removed, and you hear him toss it onto the ground. The thought of opening your eyes makes your stomach turn, but you find yourself cracking open a lid.

Blood has painted you in crimson buckets, and the fleeting pace of your heart is only making it pump out faster. Gasping, you feel faint, and close your eyes again, focusing on your breath, hoping to slow your heart rate so you don’t bleed out. Your entire body is pulsating, and you are trembling--you don’t want to go into shock, either.

Kylo clutches your other breast, tweaking your nipple in his fingers. Another laugh rumbles under the mask, and he cuts into your skin once more. The pain is duller, this time, your adrenaline still spiked and your brain focused on keeping calm. Yet you feel like a fish, filleted live on television, strands of hanging skin snipped and ripped from you, and you are bathing in warm fluid pumping from your own heart. Your second breast drops, and you groan, dizzy. It’s a lot of blood, leaving you--you don’t even need to look.

“That’s an issue,” says Kylo. His voice sounds filtered through water.

You hear rustling, and then the flicking of something--a lighter--and your lids pop open. Dread sinks into your bones when you watch him wipe his knife on his pants and hold it over an open flame. Whinging, you shake your head, the tears coming again.

“No, no, no no no…” You heave, swallowing vomit. “Please, no, no, we can do a tourniquet or something, please, no no no…”

“You’d rather bleed out?” His voice is dull, even under the modulator. “Besides,” he says, spinning the knife over the lighter. “We need you awake for every part of this. Otherwise it isn’t any fun.”

Vomit threatens again, but you swallow, shuddering. “Fuck you.”

Kylo releases the lighter and moves forward. Before you can even protest, he presses the flat end of the blade against your wound, and you scream, tears streaming down your cheeks, shivers wracking your body as blinding pain whites your vision. A sob crawls out, and then another, and another, before you are heaving, drooling, and wailing in desperation. You try to breathe, but can’t, gasping and whining for air--and you finally vomit, hurling onto your chest, the rest bubbling out down your chin in an acidic burble.

“Stop. Stop, please,” you wheeze. “Please, just stop.” A rare breath fills your lungs, and you cough. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

The weight of his gaze heavy on your frame as he re-heats the knife over the flame. “Because someone paid someone to pay me.” He steps forward and cauterizes your other wound, and you screech again, agony wracking you as your skin sizzles and pops under the heat. The smell of burnt flesh permeates. You want to vomit again.

Finished, Kylo wipes the knife on his pants again and puts it back into the sheath on his belt. You are quaking with terror and pain, sweat has drenched your lower back and hair, and you are still trying to focus on your breath. Kylo clicks something at his terminal, the rest of the voyeurs are back in the chat.

blueeyeswhited: holy shit she looks fucked up

laetus_lacrimosa: dumb fat bitch lol

mg3453: this is exactly what all these commie cunts deserve

gawinulim11490: don’t compliment her by insinuating she knows anything about being a communist.

xwaifusayorix: lmao shit

Your head is spinning. Is that it? With the bidding done, are you just going to be tossed out like this? Maybe he won’t even let you go.

“Kylo, please…”

Then, he types.

kyloren: Bidding open again. Starting at 2.93 btc. Open now for the next 30 seconds.

mg3453: 2.93 to shut her up. rape her mouth and make her vomit again

blueeyeswhited: nice

gawinulim11490: he’ll rape her?

xwaifusayorix: lmao cuck

laetus_lacrimosa: he’ll do anything--he’s a monster

kyloren: Going once.

gawinulim11490: i’ll double it. 5.86 btc to rape every disgusting hole. choke her. make her lick cum off the floor. remind her how repulsive she is.

Your heart sinks into your gut. Your mouth is dry.

kyloren: Going once. Twice.

kyloren: 5.24 to watch. Beginning now.

The chatroom changes in the same way it had before, only now all five people who had been in the chat before slowly join. After the last person appears, Kylo turns, pulling the knife out from his belt once more. You can only swallow, staring at him with pleading, wet eyes, hoping that if you seem pathetic enough, he’ll let you go, or spare you, somehow, with any hint of kindness.

When he cuts you free of the chair, you kid yourself into thinking, for a moment, that he’s done just that. You swivel to try and look at him, to catch his intention, but find yourself horrified when you turn to see him pulling his cock out of his pants, guiding his hand up and down the hardening shaft.

Heat licks up your spine, and you babble something nonsensical before shaking your head, blinking away the tears.

“Bend over the chair.” His voice is even darker, more commanding, under the mask.

You don’t want to bend over the chair, but you are so weak and tired, the thought of what might happen if you don’t bend over the damn chair is even more terrifying. You try to move, but find yourself slipping on your own blood. Puke hits the back of your throat again, and you gag.

“Bend. Over. The chair.”

“I’m trying, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry who?”

You pause, and stare up at him. Static has blanketed half your brain. I’m sorry…

A flash of black leather smacks you hard across the face, and you whimper, too exhausted to even grasp at yourself in shock. “You’re sorry who?” he asks, again.

Clenching your quivering chin, you look at the ground, the dirt spattered with your blood. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Much better,” he says. “Now move.”

“Yes, sir,” you mumble.

You sit up, and the parts of your shirt that hadn’t been shredded stick to your sweat. Your shorts, however, stay on the chair, matted a dark red. When you try to stand, wooziness slams you, and you stumble, grabbing onto the chair as your vision doubles, spinning out like a car wreck. Part of you wants to look at the chat screen--see what they are saying--but the other part turns with tiny steps until you are facing the side of the chair. Wincing, you lay yourself across it, ass in the air, knees off the ground. It’s hard to be still, as the seat is still slick with your blood.

“Let’s see if we can find your pussy in all of this mess.”

Leather gloves grip your ass, and you close your lids, wishing that you wouldn’t shiver as he pushed aside the hills of your flesh to find your cunt between your legs. You thought back to when you’d met him at the club--you would’ve happily had consensual sex with him, then.

“You really thought I wanted to fuck you?” he says, as if he’d read your mind. “Answer me.”

Your cheeks flush with fire. “Um… I, uh, guess I did…”

Thwack--your ass and hips jiggle with tremors of pain. He just fucking spanked you. “You what?”

Choking back, a sob, you say, “Yes, sir. I did.”

He laughs with an inhuman derision. “You’re fucking pathetic. I would never be desperate enough to fuck something like you.”

Kylo’s fingers dig into your hips, and the head of his cock pokes between your thighs--but before he can drive himself inside of you, you glide off the chair and collapse in a pile on the ground, and you retch while your burned tits scrape the dirt. Dust erupts in clouds, and you roll to avoid the pain, particles getting into your mouth, forcing a cough.

“Fuck,” you groan. “Fuck…”

Through your fit, you look up at Kylo, who is still stroking his cock--now fully erect. Your heart drops even further. It’s enormous.

“Get up, bitch.” Behind the mask, you know he’s smiling. “Get back on the chair.”

You push yourself up on buckling elbows, dragging yourself like a corpse back onto the chair. Shaking, you drape yourself across it, and Kylo once more grapples your hips. The warm, throbbing head of his dick slides across your legs, seeking out your cunt, aching to tear it open and make you scream. You bite your lip, grimacing in anticipation--but when he thrusts, you lose grip on the chair again and tumble back onto the ground, rolling onto your back while you stifle a whine.

“Stupid whore.” Kylo kicks you in the stomach with the toe of his boot, and you heave, curling into a ball. “Can’t even stay on a chair.” He sighs, his erection bobbing in need. “But you’re used to being fucked like an animal, aren’t you?”

“What--”

Kylo pounces, clutching a fistful of your hair as he whips you around, shoving your face straight into the dirt. You moan in pain, drool dripping in globs from your face, caking your mouth and cheeks in mud. Gloved hands pull your legs apart, and then a hard, thick cock is pushing at the folds of your dry cunt. Grunting, Kylo cranks your head back, his voice low in your ear.

“Not wet for me yet?” A smothered laugh. “That’ll change soon.”

Gasping for breath, you almost beg for him to stop--but then he rams into you, ripping through your walls, and you screech, bucking against him, arms flailing. He lays his entire weight on top of you, like a boulder pressing you to the ground, and curls his fingers in your hair before thrusting again. A throttled shout escapes you, and Kylo’s other hand wraps around your throat, strangling any other noise. All you can do is slobber as tears trickle along your jaw.

“Mm, fuck,” he hums into your ear. “I feel you getting wet. You like this, don’t you?”

A long, agonizing pull out, and then another excruciating drive in. Shame seeps out of your pores as you realize--he’s right. The base of his dick pulses when he seats himself inside of your pussy, and your body reacts, walls instinctively squeezing. He laughs, tugging you somehow closer, the cold muzzle of his mask settling in the crook of your neck.

“That’s right,” he says. “You feel like a whore.” He drags out, and slams back in. “You look like a fucking pig.”

Kylo finds his rhythm, punishing you with his dick as he growls into your ear, hand just tight enough around your throat to keep you conscious while you fight for lucidity through the pain. Your pussy is wet, now, a humiliating and automatic reaction to the painful fucking he’s forcing upon you. It’s only then that you can actually process it--he’s raping you. This is all actually happening. The realization is almost anesthetizing--you can’t feel your face anymore, anyway, you think it’s been numbed with tears--and any sound you make escapes as guttural, animalistic sobs.

“That’s right, little pig,” he says. “Squeal for me.” Kylo releases your neck to smack the side of your face, and the sharp pain provokes something inside of you--you squeal, like a rutting, dirty farm animal, and when he returns to choke you, you squeal again, in shame. He snickers. “Good pig…”

The constant raking across the dirt has rubbed your body and pained nipples raw, making every movement above you torturous. Kylo pumps deep into your cunt, piercing your cervix over and over and over, his breath leaving in dark, mechanical huffs. You want him to cum so badly, just so this will be over. In angst, you groan, loud and long.

“It feels that good?” he asks. “You love taking cock, don’t you? You’ll take it wherever.”

Kylo pulls out, but before relief hits you, you feel the tip of his slickened cock pass over your asshole. Horrified, you groan again, but in his grip, under his weight--you are weary, helpless. You can only whine and screech in protest as he presses against you.

“You want it so badly. You’re fucking disgusting. But I knew that the second I realized you wanted to fuck me.” He huffs when he pushes the tip of his dick into your ass, and you grunt in pain. “You were so desperate. So lonely.” Another thrust, deeper, more unbearable. “And those cuts on your legs…” A hard, deep thrust this time, and you howl. “Do you think anyone actually wants to give you attention?” He pauses. Smacks you, and gasp. “Do you?”

Voice ragged, you reply, “N-no… No, sir…”

Kylo tugs you back and slams his hips against your ass, and you wail in agony as he splits it open. It feels hot and cold and empty and full all at once. You are dizzy with pain and exhaustion, overcome while he pounds you, fucking into you harder than before. His cock is hard and sharp, a nail trying to splinter you like a board.

“Go on, pig,” he growls. “Squeal for me like the filthy little swine you are.”

He slaps your cheek, and like a stupid, trained pig, you squeal--a horrible, wretched sob that scrapes its way out of your throat. Another moan leaves him, and he gives you two hard thrusts before pulling out of your ass, his dick like sandpaper against your sore flesh. You gag, and then yelp as he yanks you to your knees by your scalp. He is quick, smacking the side of your face to part, and then shoving his dirty cock straight into your mouth.

You retch, the taste revolting, but Kylo grips your skull in both his massive hands and fucks down into your throat, your hair his reins. There’s a visible urge to let his head fall back and cum, but he fights it, locking with your stare behind his mask. Water spills over your cheeks again, your eyes rolling as you fight your own urge to pass out. It is almost impossible to breathe with his thick dick constricting your airway, stretching your jaw, making you drool.

“Such a good little squealer… Almost made me cum.” His voice is uneven, now, his thrusting erratic. “This is all you’re good for, isn’t it? And you’re barely good for this.” He slaps you. “Stay awake, cunt.”

Gurgling against his erection, you nod to the best of your ability. Your compliance has you wanting to throw up, too, but there has been too much to fight--knowing it is almost over, you want him to hurry so you can leave and forget him forever. After a lot of therapy, probably.

“Fuck… fuck--”

Kylo’s hips pitch, and he groans, pulling out of your mouth and jerking his cock as it twitches in front of your face, holding your head still. A gasp, a groan, and he climaxes, jets of hot cum splashing your eyes and lips, mixing with spit and tears and dirt. Sighing, he squeezes the last drops of his release from his dick, wiping them on your face and shoving you back into the dirt.

You hit the ground and shatter, the pent-up fear and adrenaline pouring out in broken, weeping breaths. Part of you wants to cover your face with your hands, but the other part is too disgusted to touch any reminder of his presence.

“Clean it up,” comes Kylo’s voice.

It is an echo in the chamber of your bawling. You can do nothing but wheeze, ache, and cry. There is nothing left in you to do an ounce more.

But Kylo is unsatisfied with this. “Clean it up.” His foot collides with your stomach on the final word, and you screech, crying harder.

You fold into a ball, trying to block him from your private break-down. The crying is uncontrollable, at this point, all you can do is ride the waves of anguish. Then you hear Kylo snarl.

Pain explodes in your skull when he stomps on it, jamming his heel into your temple, and he kicks you again, knocking the air from your lungs. “Clean it up, you filthy bitch.”

Coughing, you try to nod, acknowledging his order, shivering while you pull yourself up from the floor. Every part of you aches, resonating with pain and the tremors of torment. Glancing at yourself, you are covered in blood, dirt, spit, vomit, and semen. You can’t bring yourself to view the chat screen. What have they been saying this entire time? You suppose it doesn’t matter.

Swallowing what scraps are left of your pride, you wipe the caked semen off of your face, gathering it in dirty clumps and dragging them onto your tongue. The taste is acrid, bitter and salty and dry and sticky--and you heave trying to finish the first glob. Closing your lids, you persist, steeling your stomach as you clean your face of every last viscous drop of his semen. As you finish, you open your eyes, blurred tears clear, and see the chat.

blueeyeswhited: holy fucking shit

mg3453: that was fucking incredible

laetus_lacrimosa: i knew she could take a big cock

gawinulim11490: what a fucking whore. she fucking loved it.

xwaifusayorix: like every other female, lol

laetus_lacrimosa: look at her cunt, it’s so fat and wet

blueeyeswhited: what kind of feminist loves being raped? lmao

gawinulim11490: she does. she’s a fucking joke. i told you that she’s not a real feminist. she’s a boring, joyless, leftist cuntbag.

mg3453: goddamn lol. are you sure you’re not an incel?

gawinulim11490: fuck off.

Their words don’t bite, as they did at first. You’re too fucking tired to care. Glancing over, you see that Kylo has already tucked himself away, and is making his way to the terminal. This had to have been the last part. Surely his plan is to sign off and let you go. Surely…

kyloren: Bidding opens at 5.86 btc. You have 30 seconds.

Adrenaline again. “No.” You try to scramble toward him. “No, no!”

blueeyeswhited: cut her fingers off. 5.86 btc

kyloren: You’ll need more than that.

xwaifusayorix: 7.86 to cut off her toes

laetus_lacrimosa: 9.44 to cut her guts out

xwaifusayorix: oh fuck lol

You slump onto the ground. They’re not going to stop until you’re dead. Heart skipping out of your ribs, you claw to Kylo’s feet, curling your arms around them, scratching the leather like a hopeless cat.

“Kylo, please… please, don’t…”

kyloren: Going once.

“Please, Kylo, sir, please, please, please…”

kyloren: Going twice.

“Kylo… sir, don’t do this…”

gawinulim11490: 15.73 to cut the dumb bitch’s head off. spare the world of another fat leftist idiot.

Breath freezes in your lungs. No one else in the chat says a word.

kyloren: Going once.

kyloren: Twice.

He pauses, you think, for a second longer. You don’t dare speak.

kyloren: 11.79 to watch. Starting now.

The chat switches, and the only one who joins is the person who bid.

You hug Kylo’s legs, trying to hold him, pleading and pleading for him to release you. It is mostly gibberish, nonsense strung together with despair. God, you didn’t want this, you realize now, if you were let go you’d be better, you’d do better, you’d do whatever you needed so that you were never hated this badly again. On some end, you must deserve it, if someone is willing to pay money over and over to see you brought to this.

Beyond your sorrow, you feel Kylo moving, dragging you across the ground while he moves in front of the camera. Without a word, he gnarls his fingers in your hair, wrenching you to your knees, twisting your body so you kneel facing the camera. You are sniveling, and just as silent as him.

It’s not that you think, perhaps, you deserve to die. It’s that you realize that it is inevitable. It is, you hope, the same revelation that hits a cancer patient after a grim diagnosis, or the one that blinks into the mind of a driver during a head-on collision. The same revelation that perhaps only half of the population is lucky enough to have, before they collapse or bleed or pass in their sleep. And here you are, having it now--you are about to die at the hands of this monster. At least you’ll finally be free.

Kylo stands behind you, and you hear a hiss and metal squeak. To your left, a heavy thump. Fingers still tangled in your hair, he snaps your head up, and you see his face again. For a moment, you can’t understand why he’s done this--but you realize the camera must only see you.

His eyes are voids. Yet he looks just as pretty as you remember. You should’ve known that no one this attractive had good intentions for you.

Then the blade of his knife slices into your neck, and you sob--but the blood is hot, spurting in a river, and you feel his fingers tighten in your scalp, and then another tear in your flesh, and you choke on your blood, coughing and sputtering and twitching in pain, and everything is fuzzy, and numb, you can’t feel your fingers, or your body, or even feel your breath, and soon you know you aren’t breathing youaren’t seeingand everythingis blankandemptyandblack.

blueeyeswhited: oh fuck that’s a lot of blood

laetus_lacrimosa: not exactly a clean cut job

mg3453: look how upset she was lmao

gawinulim11490: she deserves it.

gawinulim11490 has logged off.

mg3453: shit. good show anyway.

xwaifusayorix: i still think that guy was an incel

laetus_lacrimosa: incels don’t have cash like that, idiot

xwaifusayorix: true.

xwaifusayorix has logged off.

laetus_lacrimosa has logged off.

blueeyeswhited has logged pff.

mg3453 has logged off.

Session has ended.

kyloren has logged off.

#kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren #kylo trash #no accounting for taste #dead dove: do not eat

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impala-dreamer · 7 years

Text

Emptiness

SPN FanFic

~Alone in the empty Bunker, your sadness deepens until a friend appears to help out...~

Reader, Castiel

1,679 Words

Warnings: Angst with a slightly fluffy finish. Depressed Reader, Comforting Cas.

A/N: This is my entry for Taylor’s 2K Challenge! @impalaimagining - congrats babe! Sorry it took so long... I struggled with this one. Thanks to @idreamofhazel, my sister wife and life coach for her help.

It felt like weeks since you last slept.

The bedroom ceiling offered little entertainment to your exhausted mind, but you stared at it anyway. The air was still, the room was silent. There was nothing but the sound of your breath moving slowly in and out. It passed in through your nose, filling each cell of your expanding lungs, and back out again, pushing into the void, affecting nothing. It was invisible and cold, just like you.

For the hundredth time you turned on your phone to check the time. Four a.m. You sighed and sat up, deciding to start the day. Moving was better than not, and busy hands were better than still. Maybe with something to do you could distract yourself, keep your mind away from the nothingness that had been creeping up on you lately.

You pulled on a sweater, tied your hair back, and slipped into your sneakers. You passed the mirror without a glance. There was no reason to look, you knew you were a mess. But if no one else cared, why should you? That’s when you knew it was bad. You could pinpoint the moment it all began falling part, truly falling; it was when you stopped looking at yourself.

Brushing your teeth one morning, you looked up and stared into your own eyes; the edges were rimmed in red and dark circles hung underneath. The lines and creases stood out to you in the harsh light above the sink and you shrugged as you put on a swipe of mascara. “I guess it’s one of those ‘hate my face’ days.”

The next day it was the same. You lingered over your face, noticing every imperfection, catching every new gray hair that sprung from your temples. You didn’t bother with make up that morning, it didn’t seem to help anyway.

By the third day you didn’t look up at all. There was no point. Your eyes showed you nothing in return, your mind whispering harsh words you couldn’t help but believe. Further down, deep inside your chest was a hole, a vast, black expanse of emptiness that grew larger each day.

Into the empty hallway you trudged, your tired feet dragging across the shiny floors. More silence. More nothingness.

The Bunker was empty. The boys were gone on a hunt, leaving you to yourself for a while. You had asked for the break, hoping that the time alone would do you some good; but all it had done was increase the hurt. You were alone, forgotten, left to roam the empty halls in search of purpose. You never found any, and after almost a week, you were done.

Your feet brought you to the kitchen. You didn’t bother turning on the lights, walking like a zombie towards the fridge in the dark. The ice box bathed you in light when you opened the door, and you stood before it, your eyes passing without interest over the contents. With a sigh you closed the door, turning away. You knew you should eat something, but you didn’t want anything. Your stomach had stopped protesting its emptiness the day before, having become accustomed to the feeling.

Back into the hallway you went, running a lazy hand over the tiled walls. The porcelain was cold and smooth; your fingers floated over the breaks and back down to the next square with ease. You followed the turn in the wall, the black and white pattern of the tile leading you into another vacant room.

Empty chairs.

Empty table.

Empty stairs.

Empty heart.

The overhead lights were off, but the equipment in the War Room forever glowed, dials and switches blinking randomly; you had no idea what anything did or if they were just for show. If the whole thing started screaming at you in alarm, you’d probably take a bat to it; you were that in the dark about everything in this room.

The one thing you did like was the table in the center. The giant, illuminated map that acted, as Sam put it, as a monitor for the massive computer in the basement. Again, you hadn’t really retained much detail as he explained it to you, but it was still cool.

You sat down with your back to the bank of electronics and dropped your head to the table. Your forehead pressed against the hard top, the light burning your open eyes. Your lungs filled, pulling in a deep, heavy breath and slowly pushing it back out. With the exhale came a cry that you hadn't expected. Your eyes watered, your lip quivered, and a deep ache pierced your heart. It tugged through your chest, a solid string of fiery pain that shot straight across, burning into the very depths of you. The only relief seemed to come from letting go of your tears. You blinked them away; your sobs echoing in the empty bunker like a whisper in a crowd. There was no one around to hear it.

“Y/N?”

A deep voice filled the room and you looked up from behind your arms to see an angel standing over your shoulder. A concerned looking angel. An angel in a trench coat.

“Hey Cas,” you spoke softly, wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater. “What's going on?”

“I was wondering the same about you,” he replied, walking around to stand behind the chair next to yours. He placed his hands on the back on the chair, bending down slightly as he looked you over.

You shrugged and took a deep breath, pushing away the tears. “I’m fine Cas.”

“I heard you screaming,” he said simply.

“I wasn’t… what? I didn’t scream.” You pushed back in your seat, scraping the legs of the chair as you turned to face him.

“Maybe not out loud, but I heard your soul crying out for help.” Castiel pulled his chair out and turned it towards yours before sitting down. He leaned his elbows on his knees, looking up at you with worry on his face. “What’s wrong Y/N?”

You shook your head, “Yeah, I don’t know… nothing?”

“That did not sound like a cry born of nothing.”

“OK, then… everything? I don’t know. I just feel… empty inside.” You sighed and looked into his bright blue eyes, wondering if he could ever really understand. “I feel lonely and empty. Like there’s a giant hole inside of me and it’s growing bigger everyday, just filling me with nothingness. I don’t want anything, I don’t need anything, I can’t do anything. It’s all just… empty. I can’t give anyone anything they need. I can’t do anything right. I’m pointless, worthless; I’m a waste of air lately and I can’t make it right.”

Castiel sat back, thinking about what you had said and deciding how to comfort you best. He was always good like that, showing up when you needed him most, pushing away the hurt; but this time you were pretty sure there was nothing to push away. This was who you were now: a shell of your former self housing a starless void.

“Hey, it’s OK Cas,” you offered, plastering on a fake smile. “I know it doesn’t make any sense. I’m dealing with it. It’s OK. I’ll be fine.”

“You are not empty, Y/N,” he said finally. “And you are not alone. You have Sam and Dean and me, we will always be here for you.”

He didn’t get it. “I know that. And I love you all for it. But that’s not… I can’t explain this, I’m sorry. Just… you can go. Don’t worry about me, please.” You stood up, gave him another faint smile, and turned to walk away. Before you could leave, his hand shot up to take yours. He held it firmly, causing you to turn back to him. He stood up, pulled your hand to his chest, and wrapped his other arm around you. You froze, believing you did not deserve such comfort; your shoulders and neck stiffening even as Castiel held you close.

“I will always worry about you.” His soft hand pressed against your head, keeping you locked to his shoulder.

Something in you broke again, and you softened, your entire body relaxing into his. Your breath stuttered, tears soaked into his coat, your fingers curled around his. When you spoke, it was in pieces, your words becoming lost behind the flood of tears. “I’m sorry...I ruined...just nothing good…I can’t…”

Castiel’s gentle grip pulled you back so he could look you in the eye. “Stop.”

“Wh-what?”

“Stop. You are good and kind and special. Stop telling yourself you are not.”

You shook your head, wiping at your eyes as the waterworks slowly died down. “I’m not, I’m not any of those things. I know that.”

The angel took a deep breath, his eyes were filled with pain as he watched you flounder. “Don’t you realize how amazing you are Y/N?” His hand cupped your cheek, forcing you to look at him as he spoke. “You are not empty. You are full of life and hope and love. The entire universe is inside you. When my father made you, he pulled together millions of molecules to form one perfect being: you.”

You gave a sad laugh, “Are you gonna tell me that I’m made of stardust and rainbows? Cause I really don’t have time for junk like that.”

“No, no rainbows. How could there be…”

“It’s just a joke.” You pulled in another deep breath, and with it everything seemed to settle. It pushed away the darkness, or at least, began to.

Castiel smiled, his face brightening as he saw the hurt fading from your eyes. “Well, laughter is the best medicine they say.”

Again you laughed, but this time it was true and happier. “Cas, did you just make a joke?”

“I believe I did,” he smiled proudly.

“Well, then,” you said, leaning back against him once more, and closing your arms around his back, “I guess there is hope for us all.”

Forevers: @1-800-misha @27bmm @amanda-teaches @applepie-and-angelwings @arryn-nyxx @atc74 @autopistaaningunaparte @ayeeitsemry @bea789 @because-imma-lady-assface @babypieandwhiskey @blanketmadeofstar @brewsthespirit-blog @britt-spn @bulletscrossbowpie @charliebradbury1104 @chaos-and-the-calm67 @chelsea072498 @chumi-la-chula @cici0507 @clairese1980 @collectivekiera @cosmicpeanuthologram @createdbybadappreciation @cyrilconnelly @dannnyphantomm @dancingalone21 @deadinside-muser @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @demonangelimpala @docharleythegeekqueen @dustycelt @evansrogerskitten @evyiione @faithfulpanicmoon @fangirl1802 @feelmyroarrrr @flowermisha @freaksforthewin @frenchybell @fuckyeahfeysand @gemini75eeyore @ghostkitty1103 @hamartiamacguffin @impalaimagining @im-super-potter-locked @inmysparetime0 @jayankles @jealousbitxh @jpadjackles @joanne-thefangirl @jotink78 @kristaparadowski @kas-not-cas @katrodriguez99 @lavendellove @likesiriusly @love-kittykat21 @luciisthebest @maddieburcham1 @mamaredd123 @meganwinchester1999 @mogaruke @megansescape @mija-novella @milkymilky-cocopuff @mogaruke @mrsbatesmotel53 @mrswhozeewhatsis @my-life-is-here-soo @myfand0msandm0re @mysteriouslyme81 @naadestiel @notesfromalabprincess @notnaturalanahi @obi-wan-my-only-ho @overcastmisfitkid @pain-of-artifice @percussiongirl2017 @percywinchester27 @petrovadixon @pinknerdpanda @poukothenerd @pretttypadalecki @riddikulus-obsessions @riversong-sam @sam-winchesters-long-locks @sandlee44 @sarahgrace-1989 @scxrchy @significantly-insignificant @smoothdogsgirl @spectaculicious @spontaneousam @summer-binging-spn @superbasementflower @supernaturallymarvellous @supernaturalyobessed @tennesseewhiskey-and-pie @trexrambling @thecynicalnerd @the-latina-trickster @therewillbeblood @tom-is-in-my-tardis @typicalweirdbookworm @thegreatficmaster @vine-colored-assbutt @whatareyousearchingfordean @wi-deangirl77 @winchestersmut @wordstothewisereaders @wvnchxstxr @xxthevampirediariesexpertxx @yearoftheweasley @youtubehelpsmesurvive @yvngkinggchristyy

#taylor's 2k challenge #spn fanfic #castiel #angst #reader insert #castiel fluff #angsty fluff #one shot

286 notes · View notes

mortivern · 6 years

Text

Vera wanted it to just be the two of us walking back to the shrine, but it didn’t feel right to leave without her if she was going to be playing one of the flutes (another thing Lillie and Kio have in common!). Around sunrise we hitched a ride on the Charizard to Vast Poni Canyon, but it’s such a treacherous path that we had to do the rest on foot. We didn’t make it to the base of the altar until sometime around 3 PM. The sun was still high in the sky. Lillie said that we should wait until the moon had risen to go up to the altar and play the flutes. Vera said that was perfect, because I needed practice. She’s actually a pretty good teacher. More patient than I thought she’d be when laying out the basics. But once she’d laid the groundwork for what she thought I should know, she was demanding and insistent, stopping me mid-song to correct the way I held my hands, my posture, flat notes.

Probably for the best, in any case, that I didn’t play my flute like a complete idiot in front of a legendary Pokemon. Vera and I were sitting on the very topmost steps of the Altar of the Moone looking out over Vast Poni Canyon. I could make out the shapes of the house boats in Seafolk Village, and to the east the snowy shroud of Mount Lanakila. The ocean was all kinds of shades of purple and red and gold, and there was a stiff, cool breeze coming off the waves, and the air smelled like fruit and earth. And in that moment I almost teared up a little! Alola was so beautiful, and in this short amount of time it has really felt like another home to me. The least I could do was try to stand up against something that sought to take its light away.

When night fell I stepped up to the right side of the altar; Lillie climbed over to her pillar on the left. Vera watched from the top of the stairs, her arms folded tight. She had told me not long before she was skeptical that an amateur like me could summon a legendary Pokemon with some crusty old flute, but she still looked worried. Part of her must think it’s true. Lillie and I looked to each other, nodded, and started playing the song we rehearsed. She’s actually super good, and didn’t waver at all while she was playing, unlike me. I was worried I was going to fuck it all up because I’m not some kind of professional. When we finished our performance, the stone pillar began to crumble. A beam of prismatic light shot out of the pillar and illuminated the pools of water on the altar. Lillie’s bag flew up of its own accord; Nebby rose higher and higher into the air until we could no longer make out its figure. A minute later the light shattered, leaving behind a gigantic bat that gleamed with the brightness of the moon. Lunala, I remembered from one of the books in Malie Library. I couldn’t believe it. My shitty flute playing actually summoned one of the deities of Alola. Holy fuck.

The air around us grew thick and still after that. Guzma and Lusamine appeared out of nowhere, landing in a crumpled heap on the stairs near Vera. Lusamine reached her hand out and screamed for us to run, that it was coming this way and we needed to get out of its way. A tremendous pressure filled the air as a hole tore in the sky and a giant black mass of pyramids climbed out of it. Its eyes were shimmering rainbow diamonds. Immediately Necrozma and Lunala charged at one another, streaking across the sky, tangled in combat. They crashed into the shrine, hard, just minutes later. Necrozma had its claws deep into Lunala’s body, and I worried Necrozma was going to kill it until I saw it began to meld its body with Lunala’s. I’ve never seen anything like it. What stood before me was a distinctly bat-like body, equipped with massive and terrible arms on its back, and Necrozma’s multicolored brain-eye thing on its head. It attacked me with no provocation.

Andre leapt forward without me even saying anything, placing himself in between this creature and me. I felt myself tear up a little then, too. I directed him to land a Malicious Moonsault, which seemed to do a chunk of damage. I remembered reading that Lunala was a Psychic and Ghost type, so I figured that Necrozma would have taken on at least one of those types…right? I had no idea what I was fighting. That monster knocked Andre to the edge of the altar and made a mess of most of my team, but we were able to beat it back until it fainted. I was hoping that it would split from Lunala at that point, but it stayed intact and began to sink into a wormhole that had opened up beneath it. When it disappeared, it left behind it a thick purple haze and it was pitch black out. Necrozma had gone, and it had taken the light of Alola and one of its legendary Pokemon with it.

The Ultra Recon Squad people were there, Phyco and Soliera. They were arguing with Lusamine, who had apparently requested their help again. Vera was standing off to the side with Lillie, looking dazed. I was walking over to Lusamine when Soliera called out about my Z-Ring. Said that Necrozma probably came here because I was someone who was able to “wield the power of the light.” When I asked if they meant my Z-Crystals, they said yes, and that someone as capable of handling myself as that should be able to ride their Lunala through Ultra Space to find the world that Necrozma retreated to. They didn’t seem to want to push me to do it, but they didn’t need to—I readily accepted. Vera shouted out “What?!” I told her that I had to, that I didn’t really have an option, that Alola deserved this much. She reminded me that Lusamine’s husband disappeared into a wormhole and was never seen again. I told her it didn’t matter, that this was more important than just me. She told me what a stupid and dangerous idea she thought this was, then stormed off to the other end of the shrine. I donned the same kind of ridiculous-looking outfit that Phyco and Soliera were outfitted in. They summoned their Solgaleo, a huge metal lion, which allowed me to ride on its shoulders. A wormhole parted the air in front of me. I looked down at the Ultra Recon Squad, at Lillie and Lusamine huddled awkwardly together, at Guzma giving me a stupid double thumbs up, and at Vera, who was still standing a ways away from the rest of the group with her back turned. She had a point. This was pretty reckless. But she still could have said goodbye before Solgaleo launched us into the wormhole.

We blasted at incredible speed through these bright tunnels of…light? Space? Time? I’m not really sure. The first time we ended up in one of the “wrong” wormholes was wild. I didn’t realize that there were just like, infinite universes out there? Deserts, beaches, mountains…Lunala dropped us off in a few of them before it built up enough strength and momentum to carry us through to a place called Ultra Megalopolis. Two additional Ultra Recon folks met us there and let us know that Necrozma was brooding on top of the tallest building in the city, and that everyone else in town was hiding in fear. They said something about Necrozma not being whole? That it lost a part of itself sometime in the past, and now lived in constant pain as a result of it? Something about their ancestors having gotten too greedy about the light that Necrozma gave them. I wasn’t sure, but if Necrozma had a piece of itself missing, it would make sense that it would go off in the world searching for itself…destroying things behind it if need be.

I ascended the Megalo Tower, where I saw the Lunala-Necrozma fusion staggering around the tower. All of a sudden its head split open and some sort of crystal came out of its body. I threw my arms up just in time to block my eyes from the intensely bright blast of white light that followed as Necrozma took on an entirely new form in front of me, that of a shimmering dragon with multiple sets of bat-like wings. An aura like the one that surrounded the totems flared around it as it waited for me to approach it in battle. Tesla was up first, hanging on tight with her Focus Sash and returning with a Thunder Wave to help level the playing field a bit more. Next was Andre, who threw a Darkest Lariat at it before it knocked him out. After that were Rosemary and Maxine, who each got in a hit before also falling. I was worried that Necrozma would decimate my team before we could even get it down to half health, but Aria really showed up for us. Using her Foul Play move in conjunction with her Quick Claw, she leveraged Necrozma’s massive attack stat against itself and brought the beast to its knees. It almost seemed to melt off of Lunala, and disappeared into the black void that surrounded Ultra Megalopolis. Lunala began pouring out light, sending it soaring through the wormholes. I hopped on its back and we soared back through space and time to Alola.

Lunala—Nebby?—dropped me off at the Altar of the Moone, then took off in the direction of the rising sun. Vera came bounding over, almost tripping on herself before she pulled me into the tightest hug she’s ever given me. She looked like she hadn’t slept at all. She managed to get out “I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it back. I’m sorry,” before letting me go. Phyco and Soliera said they would stick around Alola, maybe hit up the island challenge themselves, but mostly they wanted to soak up those famous Alola rays as well as explore Z-Moves. Lillie and Lusamine said that they would take Solgaleo back to the Aether Paradise to help nurse it back to health. I was apprehensive as soon as Lusamine said that, but with both Lillie and Gladion there, she shouldn’t be able to do anything like she had before. She reached out her long, elegant fingers and dropped a handful of Beast Balls into our hands. They were specifically developed to help catch the Ultra Beasts, she said. You know, the ones that she set loose in the world by forcing open wormholes that she had no idea what to do with. But moot point. She and Lillie headed out. That left Vera and I at the altar. She kissed my cheek and said I was very stupid but very brave. We started out way down the stairs and back to Vast Poni Canyon to the point where we could pick up Charizard rides again, then flew back to Hapu’s gran’s house. She insisted on feeding us heaps of food and went quickly to work setting up the guest bedroom for us. Vera told Hapu’s gran she’d stay up for a cup of coffee and talk with her a while before hitting the sheets.

I was grateful for the distraction, since I could see gran’s eyes shining with questions. I crawled back to the bedroom and fell immediately asleep. Immediately. People could wait for my stories until I woke up and was sure that I hadn’t dreamed everything that just happened. I’m still not so sure myself. But I hope it was real. That was too awesome not to be.

#pokemon #vera

0 notes

madigabz · 7 years

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Alan Gouze :) the name of the man that has had my heart for a quarter of my whole life!!! Wow, and he adores me even tho I am 100% a clumsy, forgetful, emotional HOT mess...I'm reading your letter and responding back as I go. Even though my feelings were a little hurt that you said I'd be sexier if I didn't get emotional, I understand. Alan I am a little mentally broke, but I'm different. And thankful for that. Bc even if depression, OCD, ADD, insomnia, all of my health problems, pain, overthinking overcasts me; I still shine. Tyler said something to me at Applebee's when I saw him. He told me that one day someone will come into my life and tell me that my hair, eyes & smile glow. I radiate in the sunshine, and I'll know what they mean by it when that day comes. I am so hard on myself but I've had a handful of people- strangers and close friends tell me this. And I know it's true. I know there is more to me than usual. I still smile, I still shine. And I thank fucking whatever god is out there that my glow stays. My friend Angel that did reiki on me told me I've been carrying something since I was a child and that's the reason for my anger. It's someone else's burden that I have put on myself & the woman who read my tarot cards said something similar too. I really do have a little bit of poison in me but something in my soul, or even beyond my own existence, has given me this gift. As I get older, I become more and more scared that the reality of the world will take away my light. I smoke so much I can't even remember shit anymore. "Lose you." That's the song you told me to listen to and I'm sorry that I forgot but you bet your sweet ass the next day I bought it on iTunes and listened to it :) I'm sorry I float through life to avoid realism and pain. I don't mean to forget everything just the bad stuff but I can't pick and choose what my poor memory holds... Emperors new groove. Idr if I've mentioned it before this, but I saw it on the shelf in my room today. (I gotta take some pics of the apartment for you). I remember coming over right after all of the Jackie shit & finding out about your mom. Trying to overdose. You cried on my chest & you were so emotionally exhausted. I believe your mom was still in the hospital and we put a movie on in her bed. Emperors new groove :) it was snowing outside and it was the first time my mom blatantly was bitching about me staying the night w you bc her crazy ass drove by and saw my car at auburn hills, when I told her I was staying at Courtney's. I never felt so close to you like you let your guard down and let me feel your pain for once. Selfish of me to say but it was honestly beautiful to finally feel you so deeply. Connected and so raw. I feel like I use that word too much, raw, trying to explain myself to you but nothing fits better than it. I remember that day like it was yesterday. Speaking of the past. Alan at this point in my life idk and idc what was true and what wasn't when we were together before db (that's vals name for now on-dumb bitch.) but one thing I'm holding you to is honesty. I care too much about you and this relationship to see it as a joke where it's okay to lie to each other. Like you said that was the one thing you kept consistent of so please don't lose it. I respect you for your honesty. It isn't a trait people carry anymore. Good or bad, through manipulation, brainwashing, reverse psychology, mind games, everything that come with this fucking sick generation..I do not want to be apart of. I much rather be in the 50's than this day in age. I don't belong here. Mostly I belong in the water ;) can't say that it doesn't kill me a little everytime you talk about threesomes, fucking other women, having a 2nd gf. You need to stop with it. You take away my dignity little by little everytime you say some fucked up shit like that. Gotta admit, you were right tho. Out of FUN and fairness I'm sure one day in the future you can get my happy ass all buzzed up and in bed with another chick. Just don't give her all/special attention bc it'll strain our relationship for forever after that. This does not mean I am actually cool w an open relationship, you having another gf, or having sex with anyone else without me. Starting a new chapter. "Everything will be ok." "No one should ever see you crumbling"...that's the thing, trust me no one besides you sees me crumble. I don't talk about myself to anyone. I feel this void most of the days and I don't want to put a damper on anyone's mood. I never open mssgs or get back to ppl bc they dgaf about me or what I'm going through, think, feel. None of it. And I crave meaning too much, in everything, to be stuck in a one way friendship. I have wasted so much time and energy into ppl who are rotten eggs. They'll never be anything besides selfish i and I can't surround myself in that type of environment anymore. I'm killing myself slowly by not meeting my potential in life rn. I need more meaning. Not to make things more complex but the opposite. To feel full and complete by understanding shit all of the way. And ofc to make it through this terrible generation I was born into. I do see what you see baby...well for the most part. And I don't see the good in everything :p I know I won't always have someone to tell me life gets better. It has always been this way. I have taught myself this. Overthinking just kills me so much! Being a Virgo doesn't doesn't help that I overanalyze either! Fricken OCD-.- my brain sees & thinks things way differently than most ppl. Soul gotta be like 300:) I know you think differently too. I love my nerds ;) so sexy to me. Maybe that's why our souls just click. I am sorry I was quiet the other day. You knew I had something to say and I didn't say it. It wasn't the right time but it isn't a big deal so o don't want you worrying about it baby. Was I really that quiet and meh that you could tell? Or is it just bc you know everything about me?..-.- blessing a curse that you do! But I wouldn't want another man to try and understand me anyway bc I know he couldn't. It's time to stop living life for other ppl you say...idk if it's your 20's or what but I feel like I'm redefining my life again. Rediscovering who the hell I really am down to my core. I love YOU inside and out & to death!!!!!:,( pouty face. This is the most settling and amazing letter I have gotten so far. Thank you for these words I really needed it. I love you all the way through your tough skin and down to your beating heart Alan. Changing my diet is the least of my worries and it's awesome bc I'm going to get sexy af!:) I've been gluten free before. Not having cheese just breaks my lil heart tho lol. Yes my parents have fucked me up. But I workdue with it and try to overcome the shiftiness they make me feel. Ik I'm a pussy. But my dad has definitely fucked w my head and has never made me feel good enough. Maybe that's what I feed off of you and why I want you so bad. My mom is just an emotional crazy lady w multiple personality disorder lol. But at least they didn't hit me. Just verbally f*cked my shit up. "Do everything your heart desires" "even if I get out and we can't stay together 1 yr isn't shit to wait" do you understand how absolutely fucking amazing it is for me to see you say that? You're right everything happens for a reason and it'll all collide during the time it's suppose to. The stories held in the fate of the stars ;) "before we know it we'll be 30 looking back laughing." Nothing has sounded more fulfilling than that small, little sentence. I am studying finally! And I hope the pain fades away w my diet too:( my poor locked up bf has to tell me everything is going to be okay. I can't even say anything to compare to this last letter. You were too smooth with your words, and I can't tell you how refreshing it is for you to be away from me through out a whole year and wanting to stay faithful. We were blessed with each other . Keifer was right, never could stay away from each other. You will always have me too baby. I can't tell you how bad I need to hear this. You have helped me more times than I count. And for sure more than I have helped you. I can't say thank you enough for making me feel so much better . You're the wind beneath my wings <3 & the cheese to my cake. Thank you for loving me for who I am. I reread our letters last night an I am so proud of the man you are becoming. You'll have me sitting passenger cruising in your vehicle in no time toots. A place, school, income, a dog :), happiness, prosper, feeling complete. Taking care of each other, midnight runs grocery shopping. I love you with all that I got, every ounce of my being. And I hope I WILL always have you. You are stronger than so much of the race around this world. I am glad you are all mine. Love you always my sweet, handsome man. I never mentioned anything about the pics I sent. The picture after the 2012 one was when I went fishing w Anthony and t the other day. I'm pretty sure I took some pics of the water for you, I'll have to look. Ofc next one is me omw to see you. I put a wonderful alnatural big tshirt mirror pic on there for you since you're all about natural beauty:p speaking of I'm getting all new make up bc I bet that's why women age faster as they get older! We get words looking you guys get better and we carry your children wtf lol. The black dress is what I wore to Josis party, I sent the one and only picture I took at her party. Does exhaustion look sexy on me baby?:b. The last pic is from the gas station I went to after seeing you. The sky was soo overwhelming in red. There a w a double rainbow and it looked to rad & gleaming from the sky. It was beautiful!! I also wanted to show you my red robe that I have two of(: silky and comforting af, I can't wait to wearing matching robes with you:) lol do yoga, face masks, spoil or ourselves and one another as well. I can't wait to run my hands all over your body and give you a massage. Rob made me Nutella and strawberries tn, made me think about how bad I want to lick Nutella off of your body right now. I got wet from just thinking about it..mmm I'll take some sexy pictures tmmrw night for you. Happy I'm coming to stay for a whole weekend next week. You're my kryptonite and I love everything about you. Give me time so I can give you a kick ass amazing, inspiring letter next!!!! You rule my world. Forever and always sugs, you are my forever and always<3 3 am and time to crash. Hope you're having a kinky dream About it rn;) just ordered that vibrator off of amazon and metal kegel balls bc I guess they feel amazing. I can't wait to be with you. Like we always say, sex and a real bed. It'll be so soon sweetheart and I will have money for us to get a place as soon as you get out. Thank you for telling me to go wherever you astound me but life is just not the same without my other half. You're my soulmate I'd do anything for you. Being in southern michigan doesn't effect me as long as I'm there with you. You're my sunshine..goodnight love.

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