#telling myself with this to take it slow. I just can't start from scratch and to move abroad must be a planned out decision | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

byechristopher · 6 months

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loveeed your fwb chris headcanons can you do a confession fic ab it that is all angsty and shit where he’s high and confesses or where reader confesses? whatever you want

I Want More.

– CHRIS STURNIOLO ANGST & FLUFF.

Author's note: thank you so much for the request! I hope you all like it, cuties.🤍 Mwuah. Do not copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: mentions of sex, alcohol, nothing too much!

"No strings attached, okay? You can hook up with other people if you want, it's none of my business."

"I wouldn't actually mind being with you, you know?"

"Well, yes, I'm just.. relationships are not for me. Sorry."

The words that he said to me when we first started appear in my head every single time he is in my sight. It could be because it hurt so much that I cannot forget, it could also be for the better – because to get hurt is the only way to move on, apparently. Whichever it was, it hurt.

His hand wakes me up from my thoughts when it goes up to my hair, stroking it, "wanna meet tonight?" Chris whispers in my ear, our whole friend group is next to us but he doesn't really seem to care anyway.

"Yes. My house." I nod and he smiles, his hand rubbing up and down my thigh.

And tonight comes. He's all over me, inside me, I kiss him everywhere, he's rough and I love it, I pull his hair, he squeezes me, I scratch his skin, it's messy. One of those nights, that we both need to let it out. Once we're done, he pulls me into a big hug, his hand bringing mine close to his mouth so that he can kiss it.

"You're beautiful." he says and my heart beats a little faster at that. It's amazing; that power that he has on me.

"So are you." I whisper.

He leaves. My hearts shatters.

Another day, we're hanging out again. He's stealing kisses with every chance that he gets, my cheek, my neck, my shoulder. He caresses my thighs under the blanket, he plays with my fingers.

I tell him I want him. I whisper.

"My house, 8PM." he says.

And again, 8PM comes, I'm at his house, he's alone. He takes me by the hand and makes me follow him to his room – he's got candles all over the room, flowers. Is this a dream?

I can't wait, I can't keep my hands to myself. I slowly hug him from behind, kissing from the nape of his neck, all the way down to his lower back, undressing him very slowly. He does the same thing to me too. The night goes on, he's so slow, so gentle, he's filling me with his love and its so overwhelming that I want to cry, he seems overwhelmed too. He whispers sweet nothings in my ear and touches me with ways no one has ever done before. He tells me he loves me. I hold on to him and we both look desperate and filled with love for each other as he makes love to me.

When we're done, the dream is over. He's still holding me, he's still whispering his usual i love you's in my ears but there's something inside me that weighs me down, something that can utterly destroy me, "Chris. I think we need to stop this thing between us." he freezes.

"What? Why?" he whispers.

"I don't feel like doing it anymore, sorry. It's for the better." I try to be as cold as possible, because if I actually say all the things I want to say, I feel like I will scream and cry till my voice is lost.

It's been quite a few days since we last spoke and every time I think about it, the image of him covering himself with his blanket, looking devastated when I left, always comes to mind. I feel bad but I need to be selfish this time.

A call rudely interrupts my thoughts and I sigh – a call? It's 3AM. I check the screen and I see his name. My hearts races.

"Hello?"

"Come outside. I want to see you." he almost slurs. He's either drunk, or high. Or both.

"Go back home, Chris. I wanna sleep."

"I'm not leaving. Please." he sniffles.

I sigh and hang up. I walk towards the door and I stand there for a few seconds, taking a deep breath before opening it.

There he is. With his hoodie and his jeans. His eyes are red and his hair is a mess.

"You'll get cold. Go home." I whisper and he comes closer.

"I don't care. I wanted to be with you." his voice is hoarse.

"Why?" I look at him, hugging myself because shit, it actually is very cold.

"We need to talk." he nods to himself.

"We have nothing to talk about, Chris. You made it very clear that you wanted nothing but sex. I did, too. But I knew I felt something deeper." I say and he comes closer but I stop him, "no. I am talking. You kept messing with my head, making love to me, getting all romantic and shit, bringing flowers everywhere – that's not how friends with benefits are, Chris." I sigh.

He chews on his bottom lip nervously, "I don't know how to do this. I thought you liked how things were." he says.

"I did! But it got too much for me, Chris. I want more. And until you grow a pair and admit to yourself that you are able to fall in love too, that you want this as much as I do, I want nothing to do with you." I clear my throat.

He clenches his jaw and I notice that his eyes are glistening, like he is about to cry, "so is this the end?"

"I suppose so. Yes." I desperately try to gold back my own tears. He nods and turns around. He's not moving just yet but I can't watch him leave again, so I close the door behind him and I feel my world crumbling.

What was I thinking? That I would change him? That he would finally admit that he loves me too? That we would live the dream together? That he would just give me a kiss and tell me that he wants to be with me? How embarrassing.

That's it.

The next day, my heart hurts like a bitch, but I feel like a weight has been lifted off my chest for once. Maybe it's because I finally told him how I felt. And maybe because I got an answer, too – he doesn't want to be with me. It hurts, but it's an answer.

A knock on the door wakes me up again and I walk towards it, only to see an envelope. Someone must've pushed it inside. I get a little scared to open the door right away and I don't have a peephole so I just decide to open the envelope.

"I decided that since I have never been able to talk about my feelings, because I'm too much of a fucking coward, I will just write everything down and I will have to find the courage to give it to you.

I don't know why I've got such a problem expressing my feelings like a fucking adult should, but I can't stand the thought of losing you, let alone losing you because of me being a coward. So this letter is for you (I know how much you like all this sappy shit and worst part is, you made me like them too).

I've been in love with you since the day we started "officially" being friends with benefits. You know I couldn't keep my hands off of you, or my eyes. I would get jealous and possessive because you know I never want anyone else to touch you like I do. Or see you like I do. I made love to you because this was the only way to express my love for you – your heart would beat so fast and I would want to cry from how much you filled me with love and passion. Is that normal? I honestly don't know.

Anyways, for an asshole who doesn't know how to speak properly, I think I've written enough. If you think that this letter is me finally growing a pair, then please open the door because it's really fucking cold.

PS – this time my i love you's are changed."

I am ugly crying by the time I finish the letter, but I don't care because I open the door and Chris is outside, crying as well.

"I can't lose you. I promise, I will try for you. I will do anything for you." he whispers.

I quickly throw my arms around him, burying my face in his chest, hugging him so tightly that if I was stronger, he would stop breathing for sure, "I love you, Chris."

"I am in love with you too."

"Your handwriting still sucks."

"Fuck off."

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live-laugh-lenney · 3 months

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Hehehehe for George and Arthur what if their missus has a pet, and their pet never ever like them hahaha

oh my god, this makes me howl-

G E O R G E

it's a cat.

a fluffy, white ragdoll cat with the most beautiful eyes and the most softest fur and it's her life and soul.

when they first met and first got to know one another, it was a topic of conversation they never really dwelled upon and she figured it just wasn't something he needed to know until he was a frequent visitor to her home; it wasn't that it would confuse the cat but it was simply because she was a little timid around new people, would hide and shy herself away when she had guests over, and she wanted her to be sure of him.

"so, i have a cat. probably asleep on the back of my sofa so just be a bit quiet when you come in."

"a cat? this is brand new information."

and she could tell, as soon as the cat took one look at him, that she didn't take an instant liking to him. she hissed in his direction when he slowly walked towards her, swiped at him with her paw when he went to stroke her, growled at him when he tried to scratch her head.

"i suppose you're not really used to women denying your love, are you?"

"it's a cat."

he says it so defensively and it humours yn as to how he pretended how unhurt he was, on the outside, over her cat not liking him. on the inside, she could only imagine him panicking over it being somewhat of a deal breaker for her - if the cat says no, he's got to go.

all yn tells him is that she'll make herself known to him when she feels more comfortable around him.

"it won't happen straight away. but, the more you come over, the more she'll get to know you," she says and george just frowns at her, every single time she reminds him, "trust me. it's a slow process."

she was the cutest ragdoll cat he'd ever seen and he was drawn to her as soon as he walked through yn's front door, wanting to give the cat a stroke over her fur or just a few pets and scratches between her ears every time he saw her... except, she just wouldn't allow it.

scratch after scratch, bite after bite, growl after growl. and yn always felt bad when he asked for a piece of tissue or a plaster because the cat had scratched at his arm and caused a cut to form on his skin.

it's a long process.

almost half a year.

there's moments where it looks like she's getting more comfortable around him. she'll sit a little closer to him, having started in a whole different room when he first started coming over, and she'll walk passed him without hissing. she'll allow a little head scratch before she gets up and walks away, to find another place to curl up into a ball, and she won't swipe at him now that he's a bit more frequent in the flat.

and it stuns yn, one day, when she comes home from work and sees her cat loafing on george's chest as he lays on her sofa.

"please don't do anything loud," he whispers at her, shaking his head softly, as the cat purrs in pleasure from the scratches he's giving behind her ears, "she's been sat on me for about an hour now."

"i'm simply amazed," yn says, carefully placing her keys down on the side and there's a moment, where her cat's eyes widen and her purrs stop and george thinks the moment has been ruined, until she slowly closes her eyes again and gets a little more comfortable, "how did this happen?"

"i don't know. i let myself in and she just, she just came and sat on me."

and from that moment on, her go-to place is george. whether it be his chest or his lap or simply just beside him. she follows him when he goes into the kitchen, she meows for his attention, she always tries to take food from his plate and he just can't ever be mad at her... not after their progress.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

A R T H U R

it's a dog.

a miniature, longhaired, dapple-coloured dachshund that she adores.

arthur hears him before he sees him; when he knocks on her door to announce his arrival, there's non-stop yapping from her puppy that he felt a little bad to have caused. unsure of what he was about to be hit with when the door opens. he knows she owns a pet - she's been no stranger to posting about him online and he was an avid follower of hers online and always reacted to her instagram stories when she posted herself and her pup on a walk through london's parks.

he's expecting an ankle biter. snuffling his face into the side of his trainers, scratching at the legs of his cargo trousers, softly yapping up at him for attention, sniffing around him to get a scent of him.

except, arthur is met with something ironic; her dachshund trying to stand guard, acting tough and standing in between herself and him, growling whenever he tried to step around him and make his way to yn as she watches the scene unfold before her.

"he's just not used to you yet."

"well, you best get used to me. i'm going to be here a lot more often," and he speaks down to the dog as he crouches down to it's level and lets him take a look at him, reaching forward to scratch his head in between his ears... except her puppy scuffles away and hides behind her legs, "so much for looking tough, big guy."

most of the time, her puppy will either sleep in his bed or entertain himself with the many toys he has on her living room floor. he'll shake them, bite them, wrestle with them, kick them around... and yn, so often, would chuck them for him to show off to arthur how agile and excitable he gets when someone plays with him - but when arthur gets the chance to throw him a toy, to try and play with him, he just ignores the attempt and scurries on over to yn's feet where he sits and waits for her to throw something so he can play fetch with her.

and it's quite comical.

arthur looks dejected. unhappy. sad, almost.

"do i give off bad energy or something?"

"he's only just met you. give it time."

"but-"

"next time i take him on a walk, you can come with me. you can walk him, if you want?"

and he tries to.

he's dressed for the cold weather; hat over his head, layers of clothes on his body, trainers on his feet, gloves on his hands. and he has hold of the lead... except yn's puppy barely moves. he tugs on the lead to try and get him to walk but he stays put. and people who are passing find it amusing. they laugh, they joke, and arthur can't help but laugh nervously.

"help me."

yn takes over and he just feels so frustrated.

and he knows he shouldn't because... well... it's a dog.

but all it takes is for him to buy him a new toy for his 'birthday' and give him a couple of intensely flavoured treats (and sneak some food from his plate and into his bowl) and they slowly form a special bond that yn loves to watch. to the point where he whines at the door once arthur leaves to go home, to the point where he's excited to see him at the door, to the point where arthur can take him out on his own and he behaves like an angel. xx

#can't quite figure out whether i like arthur with a cat lover or a dog lover...#my selfish heart wants to say cat lover because i've got three cats... ahaha #arthurtv headcannons #arthurtv #george clarkey headcannons #george clarkey #arthurtv imagines #george clarkey imagines

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unseededtoast · 3 months

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Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Five

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

The man is wearing a dark green flannel, medium wash jeans, brown boots, and a broken watch. He's got a rifle leaning against the table beside him.

With the back of my hand I wipe sweat off my brow. Unfortunately, I was not placed on graffiti cleanup today. Instead, they're making me dig holes for new fence posts on the QZ border. FEDRA is trying to rebuild what the Fireflies blew up, and digging deep holes for hours on end only makes me more bitter towards the wannabe mercenary group. Manual labor paired with no sleep for the past two days is not working in my favor. I have to constantly fight to not pass out from overexertion. But, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't considered passing out to get out of work.

The hours pass by slowly, but surely. As soon as we get cleared to leave for the day I make a beeline for my apartment, wanting to at least get a shower before I start my activities for the night. I've got a list of things I need to accomplish, and I'm hoping to do so before curfew. However, with the luck I've been having lately, I'm not holding my breath about being back before curfew.

After I've showered and made myself presentable again, I leave my apartment and head towards area four. I'm counting on someone to have reported those poor girls in the alley today, there's just no way nobody found them. And I'm hoping my contact will have some good information for me. As an incentive for information, I brought along a few pills. Information like this is sure to come at a hefty price, and free narcotics usually does the trick.

I locate the familiar apartment and knock on the door. It's not unheard of for regular people to be in area four, but it is unusual. Thankfully, the soldier opens the door and lets me in quickly without asking questions. I stand in the doorway of the rickety apartment and nod to the man standing across from me.

"What are you doing here?" His voice is callous, but curious. We had just delivered to this guy last week and I know he isn't due for another round of pills until next week, so it is weird for me to be here right now. I clear my throat,

"I need information, and I'm hoping you can be of assistance." I start off. The man's eyes narrow,

"What kind of information?" His eyes briefly look me up and down, probably searching for obvious weapons. I move from the doorway to the man's living room, where my voice is less likely to be heard by bystanders.

"I know there have been bodies found. I need to know what FEDRA is doing to find the killer." My voice is stone cold and serious. On our drug runs, I try to stay friendly to the clients, so they keep quiet and keep coming back. But this is something else entirely. The man scratches the back of his neck and takes a few steps towards me.

"How do you know about that?" His voice is equally as cold. I look right into his eyes, trying to pierce his soul so he sees just how serious I am about this.

"I have my sources." I decide against confessing what I really know. He licks his lips and shakes his head,

"Noelle you know I can't tell you shit like this." He sounds frustrated, he has to know something. Otherwise he'd be asking for more elaboration.

"What if I gave you these?" I pull out the small bag of pills from my back pocket. The man's eyes grow wide as he sees them. His gaze flickers between me and the pills.

"What's the catch?" He asks and I shake my head innocently.

"No catch, just information." I say, hoping that the thought of free drugs is enticing enough to get what I need from him. He paces back and forth before he gives in.

"Fine. I'll tell you what I know." He says, eyeballing the pills. I release a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and motion for him to continue on.

"You'll get these after you fess up." I explain my terms more thoroughly to him. Thankfully, he starts talking without argument.

"Three bodies found, ages fourteen to seventeen. Two girls, one boy. All had the same marking on their forehead. All killed brutally. I heard from another guard today that they had concluded the girls had been sexually assaulted before they were killed. Same with the boy." He explains, and my blood boils at his words. It's bad enough these children were ruthlessly killed. But to have been defiled before? It's sickening and awakens a rage in me I've never felt before.

"List of suspects?" My voice is uncharacteristically dark and I take a few steps towards the soldier. He shakes his head,

"I don't have names, nobody has a name. But, I did hear something about a man, or some small group, staying out near the wharf in area five. I guess we've been having perimeter issues around there. It's no surprise, there are a few empty warehouses out there and nobody ever patrols them. My best guess, start there if you want to find who did this. As far as I know, all FEDRA is planning to do is to sweep the warehouses tomorrow and then call it if they don't find anything. They don't want people knowing about this, they're hoping it just stops. They're worried a riot will break out. We don't have the numbers to go investigating this, we still have our orders. My guess is that we're just going to blame the first man who looks at someone the wrong way." He spills more information. My fists clench involuntarily as he says FEDRA is basically trying to sweep this under the rug to stop a potential riot. It seems that good old-fashioned vigilante action is going to be needed after all. Appreciative of his cooperation, I toss the pills over to him.

"Thank you. Those are on the house." I say as I make my way out of his apartment, on a newfound mission.

I feel as if I'm practically flying to area five, near the wharf. I'm familiar with the empty warehouses, there are plenty of transactions I make there. But, I've never noticed any sign of someone living there before. Usually, even just one straggler leaves some sort of evidence. Unless they're dumping their evidence into the water.

I begin searching the warehouses one by one, knowing that this might take a good while to be thorough. I intend to search each warehouse with a fine tooth comb. Those children deserve someone to fight for their justice. And if FEDRA isn't going to get these families justice, then I sure as hell will. I know I would want someone to do the same if it were my child.

The sudden thought of Lucas makes my heart constrict with sadness, and I find myself clutching the necklace that never leaves my neck; a constant reminder of my family who are only with me now in spirit.

The first warehouse proves to be empty, every surface is covered with a thick layer of dust and nothing has been recently disturbed, save for rat droppings here and there. The second warehouse is also empty, but I did find some spent shell casings. Probably remnants of some shootout, but I don't know if the killers had anything to do with it, they seem to be keen on using blades.

With hope, I step into the third, and final, warehouse that sits on the wharf. The creaky old building looks like it could fall over at any second and so I'm careful of where my steps land. I take my flashlight out to look at every minute detail, looking for anything that suggests someone is staying here. I take a deep breath and stand up straight as the faint scent of a fire tinges my nose.

Carefully, I make my way up the warehouse stairs to where a small landing overlooks the rest of the building. To my surprise, there's the remains of a poorly constructed fire. It looks like it's been put out for a while, but was lit recently, as evidenced by the warmth of the wood. The floor surrounding the fire suggests that there were at least two people here, there are two different shoe tracks imprinted in the dusty floor.

I walk over to what looks like a makeshift mattress, made out of broken down cardboard boxes. Crouching down, I examine some scattered papers. There's a hand-drawn map of the QZ and there are circles drawn around areas with accompanying notes. I read the notes scribbled on the edges of the paper and realize I'm looking at the killer's plan. I feel like I could throw up as I read what it written on the paper.

They had singled out their victims, made note of their physical appearances. The notes imply that the killer wanted nothing more than to defile the victims in any way possible. It's almost like the killer, or killers, were playing a game. After I've read everything, I fold the map and tuck it in my back pocket, looking for any other evidence they might have left.

Sticking out of the cardboard boxes is another piece of paper. I turn the paper around in my hand and read what's written on it. It's a checklist, or more of a goal list, and it's clear as day to me now that these killings were a game, and that there are definitely two people in on this. The listed goals include finding suitable victims, seeing who could stab their victim more, who could kill their victim the quickest without a headshot, and who could get their victim to give up the most information.

On the left and right hand side of the paper there are numbers listed, along with words. The numbers correlate to the listed goals, and the words are all about what they learned from their victims. The killers got information about their victims' personal lives, it seems they weren't after much more than that, which I find to be a little odd. Usually infiltrators want to know where the armory is, where the food is kept. But it seems these people may have a steady flow of food and weapons if their focus was on personal information; making it all seem more like a sport. Like they chose this QZ as their hunting ground. I fold this paper and put it in my pocket as well, and search for anything else. However, that seems to be it.

The lack of personal belongings, weapons, food, paired with the lack of additional fire wood tells me that these people left and don't plan on returning here. Perhaps they knew they were going to be tracked down and so they left before anyone could find them. Maybe they were satisfied with the carnage and fear they created, so they just left before they could get caught. If my experience in this world has taught me anything though, it's that people as vile as this will never stop hurting others. It's possible they may even return here, maybe with more people. Maybe this was some sort of test run, to see what they could get away with. It's hard to know for sure.

I fall back so that I'm sitting flat on the floor, and tears make their way down my face. These predators killed those children for sport and just left without any sort of repercussion.Tears of sadness and frustration fall for the children who lost their lives, for the families who lost their dear loved ones. After a few minutes of anguish, my sorrow turns to anger, and I stand to my feet, wiping my face and making my way back to area one.

Each time my foot hits the pavement, the anger intensifies. These people will not get away with what they've done here, they will face consequences. I will hunt them down until I find them, even if that means I must go to the ends of the Earth. In this world, there is no place for evil offenders such as them, it's bad enough the infected threaten our lives everyday. Life is valuable, and those who don't treat it as such must be taken out of the equation for the greater good and the order of civility.

With one last sniffle, I knock on James' apartment door. He doesn't answer after a few minutes, so I knock again, louder this time. I hear a chair scrape against the wooden floor, and heavy footsteps come my way.

"What?" James' gruff voice demands before he even sees its me. His hard exterior immediately softens as he sees me standing there. I let myself in and am surprised to see an unfamiliar man sitting at the table.

The man is wearing a dark green flannel, medium wash jeans, brown boots, and a broken watch. He's got a rifle leaning against the table beside him, which should intimidate me, but in my current state, it doesn't phase me.

The man stares back at me like he's angry I'm here, like I interrupted something. But, I can't seem to find it in myself to care what I interrupted in this moment. My mind is on one track and one track only. James closes the door and stands between me and the unfamiliar man. He clears his throat and for the first time, I think James is uncomfortable. I tear my gaze from the stranger and look to James.

"I need to talk to you." My voice cracks as I speak. James nods and glances back to the other man.

"Can it wait?" He asks and I bite the insides of my cheeks to keep my anger at bay. I cross my arms, not backing down.

"It can't actually." I keep my words vague because this other man doesn't need to know anything about what I'm doing. James lets out a huff of air and runs a hand through his hair. The other man shifts in his seat. The two men exchange a glance, and I can tell it's loaded with some sort of silent communication. James nods his head, as if he's coming to some sort of conclusion.

"What is it then?" James asks, taking me aback. He knows what's going on, and I'm surprised he even suggested that I talk in front of whoever this man is. How do I know this man isn't going to go talking about everything I say here? I glance quickly at the man, who's now leaning forward on the table.

"Really? You know what I'm here about." My voice is tinged with anger and I set my jaw tightly. James takes a seat across from the other man and gives me a reassuring nod.

"It's okay Noelle, he's a friend. And he's leaving the QZ tonight, he won't talk." James promises me. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, struggling with what I should do. But, I don't see any other option but to tell James what my plan is. With an exasperated sigh, I uncross my arms and start talking.

"Fine. I went back out after curfew and found two girls, both killed like the boy was. I let someone else report them, I couldn't be the one to do it. And so later I went to area four and talked to one of our clients to see what's being done about this. He gave me more information about the kids, led me to the wharf in area five. I searched them all and this is what I found." I take the papers out of my pocket and spread them out on the small kitchen table, giving extra space to the unknown man. The two lean in to see what I've presented. I give them time to read the papers, and I see James' face grow pale. The other man's face seems to be set in anger.

"It was more than one." James states as he finishes reading the papers. I nod my head in confirmation.

"I think it was two. There were two sets of prints on the floor. But I think they left the QZ. The firewood was going cold, and there were no possessions left behind." I take the papers back and put them in my pocket. James scrunches his eyebrows together.

"So if they're gone, what's the issue?" His question shocks me.

"What's the issue? Three kids are dead because of them. One of them died in my fucking arms. They're just going to keep doing this. Maybe not here, but to others. I came here to tell you I'm leaving. I'm going to hunt them down." I stare right into James' eyes as I tell him I plan on leaving. Immediately, he shakes his head.

"No, Noelle, you can't leave." He practically begs. I shrug my shoulders,

"Why not James? I do the same damn thing every day here. I do my duties and then I run pills. Over and over again. These children deserve justice, someone has to fight for them. Why not me?" I tell him, feeling only slightly awkward that a stranger is present for this conversation.

"Who's going to keep things going? Theresa won't." He says, only caring about the pill smuggling operation we have going here. I shake my head, he just doesn't get it.

"There are plenty of others who can run pills just as good as me. Get one of them to do it, James. Hell, I'll even give you a list of who gets what and when." I say, more than willing to leave behind the schedule I've got going with our clients. James throws his hands up in frustration.

"So after all these years you're going to leave? Just like that?" He incredulously asks. I'm almost at a loss for words, he's acting like he's never going to see me again.

"I won't be gone forever. Once I kill these bastards I'll be back and it'll be like I never left." I tell him the truth. I do fully intend on coming back here. This shouldn't take me but a few days. James runs a hand through his hair and then focuses his attention on the man across the table from him.

"Man, do me a solid. Go with her." I'm almost offended that James thinks I need a security detail to go with me. Before the man can reply, I interrupt.

"No James, I can handle myself. Have some damn faith." I protest, but James keeps his eyes trained on the other man. Feeling patronized, I turn on my heel and leave James' apartment before either of them can say another word, slamming the door behind me. Sure, it's a little juvenile, but so was James' blatant display of his lack of confidence in me.

I go to my apartment to gather things I'll need, being sure to bring all the ammunition I have, my good hunting knife, and other survival necessities. I was planning on leaving first thing in the morning, but I know James will just come over here and bother me, so I'll leave tonight before he gets the chance to.

It leaves a bad taste in my mouth, how things left off between James and I, but once I return I'm sure we'll be able to patch things up, we always do.

#joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller x oc #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #tlou #tlou fic #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction

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doe-eyed-fool · 2 months

Text

Fallen {Chapter Eighteen}

Alastor x (Fem)Reader

Warning: Mentions of abuse

I never thought I would give up on what I wanted most, and the realization of what I wanted was unobtainable, only made me feel worse. I was still left with so many questions, and a broken spirit. I hate not knowing, and not being able to remember anything doesn't make things any better.

It only leaves with stress, worry, and an immense amount of guilt. Stressed about my new residence in Hell, worry that I may never return to Heaven, and guilt for whatever I had done to land me here. I shouldn't have to feel any of this. I had felt it hundreds of times when I was alive, death, and being sent to heaven was suppose to erase all of that.

But now, it's like nothing has changed. I still feel so broken.

So, why not say yes to the deal Alastor had made me? Why not learn to become stronger, so I can protect myself against whatever is thrown at me? I'm so tired of feeling helpless. I won't do it anymore, I refuse to.

It's too bad my real appearance was a constant reminder of what I can no longer have.

"Isn't there a way you can make this permanent?" I ask Alastor, not taking my eyes off of my mirror. I had grown somewhat use to my false demonic form, honestly, seeing my true form was near jarring now. "Afraid not dear." Said Alastor.

"Though it is strange...If the good lord threw you out, why not have given you a true demon look to go along with your eternal damnation?" He asks. I furrow my brows. He had a good point. Why didn't God give me a demonic form?

Alastor had mentioned how valuable an angel was down here. How demons would do unspeakable things to get their hands on one, for their own sick desires. Was that part of my punishment? To be toyed with by a bunch of demons forever?

"I don't know." Is all I could say. "I just hate to hide like this. It makes me worried that this can all go away, the second the necklace is removed." Alastor shrugs. "It's the only way I can help you stay hidden in plain sight."

"Alright. Thanks anyway." I tell him. "And...thanks for finding another way." Alastor raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" He asks.

"I was so certain that there was nothing left for me. That I was doomed to never return to Heaven. I was left behind. Forgotten about...I didn't see any point of continuing on. I felt like I did when I was alive all over again..." I explain. "But, you managed to find another way for me. A way to make the best out of a pretty terrible situation. So...Thank you."

Alastor seemed slightly taken back by my words. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"Yes well, can't have someone like you disappearing. I'm quite curious about how you angels work. If I didn't tolerate you as much as I do, I would have already known how angels taste." He says lowly. I chuckle. "You tolerate me?" I swore I heard a record scratch from somewhere. "Do not get use to it. You can go from that to distaste very quickly."

"Can't really say you have a distaste for me, if you've never tasted me." Alastor's grin twitched. "Now listen here-"

"Sorry." I say with a smile. "Thank you Alastor. I tolerate you too." Surprisingly, Alastor smiled softly. "Alright." I sigh. "Where do I start? Becoming a real demon, that is."

"I don't think it will be as easy as you think." Alastor tells me. "Unless you're ready to spill some blood, get blitzed out of your mind, or commit several felonies right this moment...I think we should take things slow. In the meantime, keep up that act of seeking redemption around Charlie and the others. We don't want any of them getting suspicious at your sudden change of heart."

"Right. I still intend to help Charlie too."

"And why's that?" Asks Alastor. "Because, what she's trying to do is so unheard of and pretty much impossible, and yet, I believe in her. I wish it could have worked for me, but I wish even more than it works for her." I tell him.

Alastor shakes his head. "I'm starting to believe your god is a fool to cast out such an innocent and naive person."

I roll my eyes. "Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about something else."

"And what would that be?" He asks. "It was about when we were sharing how we both died. I feel like I upset you. You left in quite a hurry." I mutter.

Alastor hums. "Apologies my dear, I didn't mean to come off that way. No, you didn't upset me. Rather, your situation had stirred up some rather unpleasant memories."

"Unpleasant memories?" I repeat. "Oh...uh, you were...?"

"Not only I..." Alastor quickly shut his mouth and cleared his throat. "No need to bring up the past! We have an infante future ahead of us to look forwards to!" His lively tone had returned. "Alastor. It's only me. Who am I to judge?" I say softly.

Alastor fell silent. "But, if you really don't want to, you don't have to say anything." I assure him. Alastor's glance fell away from me, a light sigh left him. "I suppose if we're going to be working together, we might as well be honest."

I stayed quiet, letting him start when he felt comfortable .

"I guess you could say, my childhood wasn't the best. Grew up in a part of town, where my mother and I were treated differently because of the way we looked. And my father was no better, him being part of the problem. But that's not all, he'd tend to take his anger out on my mother almost every day. And when she was beaten near unconscious, and unable to utter a scream...He'd go to me. There were many times, I feared he'd actually kill me." My stomach twisted as I hear him speak.

"Yes, it was like that for quite some time. Until I finally did something about it...It wasn't until my early adulthood, that was finally able to put an end to his abuse...Do you remember when I told you about my first kill? How it is still so fresh in my memory, even after all these years later?"

I had a feeling I knew where this was going. "You never do forget your first kill...especially when it's someone in your own family. I made sure to do it when he was alone, I took him far into the woods near the swamps...I made sure he felt every ounce of pain I could give until his very last breath. Then I threw him into the swamp to be feasted upon by the wildlife that resided there."

"I thought I had finally rid myself and my mother of all the pain he had caused us...But my pain would only grow from there. A month later, my mother had passed. She got sick, and unfortunately, our family was not on the wealthy side. Couldn't afford proper treatment...From that day on...I only grew colder, the killings would pick up later on until I was eventually met with the end of the line."

"I see." I mutter. "I'm sorry that happened to you." Alastor said nothing to that. "Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me. I promise, no one but me will know about this." That caught his attention, his left ear twitched and he turned to face me. He opened his mouth to speak, closing it for a moment, then opening to speak again. "Yes well...if you value your life, you'll keep your word." I nod my head.

"I will."

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin spoilers #abuse #tw abuse #childhood abuse

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dreadsuitsamus · 1 year

Note

Hi! Can I request a human!reader teaching Goku how to cook so he can impress Chi-Chi? I love to cook myself, so I thought it'd be a cute idea!

Bone App the Teeth | Goku & Reader |

author's note: i was actually in the process of writing a goku fic when i got this request! i also happen to think it's a cute idea and absolutely love the idea of goku and the reader being old pals spending an afternoon together to get goku out of the doghouse :p i hope you don't mind i added a slight bit of vegeta x reader as a background pairing to add more to the story!

pairing: goku &fem!reader (it's platonic!) vegeta x fem!reader, goku x chi-chi

warnings: goku being a terribly cute student, vegeta being a little jealous, small mention of trying for pregnancy, in general just some fluff between two old friends!

You're reading on the couch when you get Goku's phone call. He's speaking incredibly fast and fumbling his words, which sounds alarm bells in your head. It can't be something super serious, after all, since you would definitely not be the first person he'd call for help. You set aside your book and take a deep breath.

"GOKU!" You yell, succeeding in getting him to stop talking for a moment.

"Why'd you yell at me?" He whines pathetically.

"So I could tell you to slow down and start over!"

"Oh, sorry about that!" Goku laughs and then sighs. "I really need your help."

"Tell me what's up."

From there Goku launches into a tale of what essentially boils down to him needing a way back into Chi-Chi's good graces after an incident the night before. He didn't go super in detail, but to you it sounded like he'd gone and ruined dinner last night with his ravenous Saiyan appetite, and he wanted to make it up to his dear wife.

Only problem was, he had no idea how to cook.

"So that's where you come in!" Goku says, and you can literally hear that big smile on his face. "So whaddya say? Can you help me?"

"Of course I will!" You smile. "Come on over and-"

"I'm here!" Goku now stands in front of you, hands on his hips and his eyes smiling, no doubt excited to make up his mistake to Chi-Chi.

You scream, holding your hand to your chest. "Goku! You can't just-"

There's the sound of shouting from outside, and then Vegeta is suddenly in the living room. "Who the hell dares attack my w- Oh, it's Kakarot." He scowls, arms crossed over his chest.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare ya!" Goku rubs the back of his neck. "Hey best buddy!" He waves at Vegeta.

"No." Vegeta glares at Goku. "Why are you in my house?"

You stand up, your heart back to a normal beat. "I'm teaching him how to cook, sweetie. Would you like to join us?"

"Tch. I'll pass." Vegeta turns and heads out to resume his training. You shake your head and pat Goku's arm and lead him to the kitchen.

"So, when do you think you'd wanna make this meal for Chi-Chi?"

"As soon as possible!" Goku says. "I wanna make something she'll love."

"Hmm..." You put a curled finger to your lip, thumb pressed to your chin as you consider something that you know your longtime friend loves. "Last time she and I went out with Bulma, we went to this really nice restaurant and she tried something called 'chicken cordon bleu' and she said she really, really liked it."

"Chicken what?"

"Cordon bleu." You repeat. "It's a simple dish that I think you'll be able to make just fine! It's chicken wrapped around ham and cheese, which is then breaded and fried or baked. I've had it a several times before myself and it really is a tasty dish."

"Then let's get to it!"

You smile softly. "Alright, let me make sure I've got everything we'll need first."

You hum softly and start looking through your refrigerator and cupboards, Goku scratching his head as you pull more and more out onto the kitchen island. "I thought you said this was simple."

"It is, I promise. Most of this is just seasoning that's gonna make it taste better."

Goku grins. "In that case, the more the merrier!"

"That's the spirit." You chuckle and fish out everything else, happy that you didn't have to lug Goku to the grocery store. (Or worse, be instant transmissioned there with him.)

"First, we wash our hands." You remove your wedding ring and set it aside, and Goku washes his hands right after you. "And now we'll prep our chicken."

As you show Goku how to properly clean and prep the chicken thighs you had tucked in the fridge, Vegeta peeks inside through the window above the sink, a frown on his face. He sees your wedding ring off to the side and scoffs. He knew he should've gotten you one with a larger diamond...

He swears to himself and flies away, angrily punching a tree before going into the training room Bulma had built for him in your backyard. (In actuality she'd built it for you, knowing full well how irritating her ex could be at times so you could shoo him away to train when he was on your nerves.)

Back into the kitchen, you've just laid a piece of plastic wrap over one of the pieces of chicken. "Okay, you'll probably like this part. The chicken is too thick to roll up, so we need to take this little meat mallet and flatten it out."

"Oh, I can do that easily!" Goku picks up the mallet and smacks it against the poor piece of chicken, splitting it in half. "Uh... Oops?"

You rub your forehead. "Not so hard, Goku."

You set him up to try again, and this time he tones down his strength and flattens the chicken with the mallet until you stop him. He smiles, proud of his handiwork, and repeats the process until there's no more chicken to flatten.

"You've always been a quick study." You comment fondly and clean up the island to move to the next step, encouraging him to add some more seasoning to the kitchen while you set up the ham and swiss cheese.

"This part here is probably the hardest thing about the recipe, and it's still super easy."

Goku nods and his eyes are trained on your hands after he's washed and dried his again. You lay out two layers of ham and cheese and then carefully pinch in the sides of the chicken and roll it up, leaving the seam side down against the plate. "After we roll them up we'll bread them and get them in the oven."

"Okay!" Goku smiles and attempts rolling one up himself, but some of the filling ends up sticking out. You unroll it and put your hands over his, helping him to keep it all together like the one you had previously rolled. "Keep it neat, Goku. Presentation matters!"

"I guess that's true." He concedes. "Chi-Chi makes the most delicious looking food! And it smells good... But most of all, it tastes good!"

"And that's why we're gonna give all three of those qualities right back!" Goku's smile makes you laugh, your chest light and mind at ease. You always loved having one-on-one time with your friend.

You wash your hands again while Goku very carefully rolls all the chicken up, setting up the breadcrumbs and mixing them with paprika, and then adding some water to beaten eggs. Goku's just finished with his latest step and instinctively washes his hands, rushing back to the island and bouncing with eagerness.

"How much left?"

"Almost there, buddy. Now we're gonna dip them into this egg mixture and roll it in the breadcrumbs after, and after that they go into the baking dish!"

"Chi-Chi's gonna love this." Goku smiles and takes initiative this time, picking up a piece of the chicken and dipping it in the eggs. You instruct him to let some of the excess drip off and then switch hands to roll in the breadcrumbs.

"A wet hand and a dry hand is the best way to bread something. It keeps things as clean as possible." You explain, greasing a casserole dish. "Maybe next time we make this I'll teach you how to pan-fry, but today we'll stick with baking the chicken."

"Oooh, getting stronger in the kitchen? I like the sound of that."

You laugh and the two of you finish prepping the meal in a companionable silence. You think back to when you met Goku all those years ago. You'd reunited with Chi-Chi, an old friend you hadn't seen since childhood, and learned that she was married to none other than the boy she was adamant was going to marry her even back in the day. Goku was looking around, undoubtedly bored, and complaining about being hungry. That's when you'd invited them over for dinner, and ever since then Goku would come over for a meal anytime he was hungry after Chi-Chi had closed down the kitchen for the night.

"Thank you for doing this." Goku says softly after he's washed his hands for the last time. "You're really helping me out here. You're always here when I need you. You're really the best."

You smile at your old friend. "You've saved the world countless times, Goku. I'll help you with anything, cooking or not, anytime. Hell, you're the reason Vegeta and I got together. I basically owe you the whole world for that alone."

Vegeta, who has come back to listen at the window after being unable to focus on his training, crosses his arms and smirks proudly. For all the times you roll your eyes, mutter things under your breath and ignore him as he rants about his Saiyan pride... You still find him worth more than the world. With that, he stands and strides into the kitchen and grabs your waist, pulling you in and pressing a firm kiss to your temple before striding right back to train, this time his mind clear.

You raise a brow, and Goku can't help but laugh. "I don't wanna throw him under the bus, but..."

"He was listening at the window." You conclude, shaking your head fondly.

Goku helps you wash dishes and the two of you trade stories you've both heard hundreds of times before, laughing so much that Goku has to catch you from falling onto the floor at one point. You wipe your eyes, body still shaking from laughter, and then dry your hands, clearing your throat.

"Alright, now we'll make the sauce for the chicken and make some rice, and then you should be good to go."

You set Goku up to grate the parmesan and you fix the rice up in the rice cooker, and with some dijon mustard, butter, flour and milk, you help Goku make a lovely sauce. You get some on a spoon and hold it out to Goku, whose eyes light up at the flavor. "Man, you never stop amazing me with your skills!"

"I'd hope not, since I used to be a chef." You laugh.

"I've been meaning to ask why you stopped." Goku sits on one of the island stools while you start fixing up a quick pot of green beans.

You chop up a bit of bacon and onions, adding them to the pot with some garlic. "Well, for starters, I was just so stressed and tired all the time, which was fine when I was single. But then when I got married and became a step-mother it just wasn't working well anymore. When I'd get home, I'd start arguing with Vegeta and it wasn't healthy for our marriage, not to mention I wasn't getting much quality time with Trunks. Plus, I wasn't getting to go to birthday parties or holiday gatherings anymore since I started working at my last restaurant. And when Vegeta said he was wanting to have kids..."

Goku's eyes widen. "Wait, really? Vegeta wants another kid?"

You smile softly. "He does. I'm sure Trunks would love a sibling."

"That's really great!" Goku grins. "I'm happy for you guys."

"Thanks, Goku. Not pregnant yet, but we're working on it." You add some tomatoes and then the green beans to the pot, stirring and then leaving it to simmer. You turn and sit on another stool, opening a drawer on the island and pulling out a game of cards.

"It'll be some time before everything is ready, so why don't we play your favorite card game?"

Goku gasps. "Yes, I love Go Fish!"

You laugh and deal the cards out, and after a few games (poor Goku never stands a chance against you) you pack up his meal to take home to Chi-Chi and Goten. "You're all set, bub."

Before he teleports home, Goku gives you one last hug, and you smile and hug your friend back tightly. He presses a quick kiss to your head and pulls back, picking up the containers and within a flash, he's back home to set up for Chi-Chi.

You're in bed with Vegeta that night when you get Goku's next phone call.

"She loved it!"

#goku & reader #goku & you #goku x reader #goku x you #vegeta x reader #vegeta x you #fem!reader #x reader #x you #db #dbz #dbs #requests #anon #fic #i really loved writing this #being good friends with goku sounds so nice #thank you for the request!#i watch too much tfs so sometimes goku's dialogue sounds like it could be from that lol sorry

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thebelugawhalefriend · 5 months

Text

Connection: Kris x Reader

CW: Y/N insert, Gender Neutral reader, Slow burn (?)

Part Two

Please Note: This will be a spin off starting from Chapter 2's ending! While new tidbits from future chapters will affect new aspects, this will be a fanfiction based on my own thoughts and story direction. Please take this as an "alternate universe/ending" piece rather than pure canon material. Thank you!

Connection [TERMINATED]

All I can feel are my muffled breaths as I struggle between couch cushions.

"Kris... Stop struggling! I'm trying to sleep!" A black boot shoves my face further into the coarse fabric prison I'm in. "Wait a minute- That's not Kris' kickable face!"

Just as suddenly as I had woken up in peril, a tight grip on my head pulled me from the cushions. Yellow eyes peer through me in suspicion.

"Just who the HELL are you?!"

"Wait- I can-!"

"Why am I waking up in the Dark world, huh?!"

"Just listen!"

"AND WHERE THE HELL IS KRIS?!"

...

"...Susie?"

A soft yet familiar voice interrupts the barrage of demanding questions before I can even process what's going on. The pause gives me just a moment to look around to what just might be happening. My head? Currently being held by Susie, an armor clad purple monster whose bite would most likely end me. My surroundings? None like I've seen in the game before. Card castle isn't anywhere near that I can see... And yet the friendly green dressed goat, Ralsei, is here to greet us.

"Just who is that you're holding...?" Ralsei tilts his head.

"I don't know WHO they are, but they better explain why we're here..."

"Maybe instead of gripping them like that, you could let them down? Maybe they'll tell us on their own!"

It takes Susie a long moment to get used to this idea. A few glances shared between Ralsei and myself too. But, it isn't long until she releases her claws and lets me back down onto the couch. "Fine, but they have FIVE seconds to explain themselves..."

I stand right up from the couch and dust myself off, shivering and shaking from the encounter. Unlike the others, I'm still in the plain clothing I typically wear. It WOULD feel unfair if it weren't for the fact that... Well, where am I? More importantly- HOW am I? How could this happen?

"I'm (Y/N), but... You've known me as Kris for the past few days-"

"YOU'RE KRIS?!" Susie sounds exasperated, but a nudge from Ralsei quiets her down.

"Kind of? It's hard to explain but I've kind of... Been like a guide for Kris. Telling them what to do to stay on the right path. Their Soul, if you will. I know you two very well... But, Kris... They pulled me right out of their own chest and stuffed me into the couch cushions! I don't know how, I don't even know why, but all I know is that I'm somehow here...?"

"...And you expect us to believe that?" Susie raises an eyebrow.

"I know it sounds ridiculous! I don't even believe that I'm here! Shit, I'm still dressed in what I wore yesterday and I'm not even FROM your worlds!"

While Susie was giving me the most menacing glare, Ralsei was scratching his chin in thought. "It does make some sense... I don't see anything that would make you a lightener, but you can't be a darkener either. Though, can you remember how you got here?"

"No... All I know is that after finishing this chapter, I-"

"Chapter? CHAPTER?!" Susie interrupts again, yet Ralsei doesn't stop her this time

"Look, I don't think I have time to explain all of this! We have to find Kris- If they pulled me into this mess, they're going to get me right back out of it!"

While the tall purple monster was hesitant to agree, she crossed her arms and nodded, "We will have to find them, regardless of you. I doubt you're telling the truth..."

Ralsei stops her thoughts, "But! (Y/N) very much could be! And if they are Kris' SOUL, we need to find them and fast. Who knows what could happen to Kris if them and (Y/N) are separate too long...

#deltarune kris #kris deltarune #deltarune #deltarune x reader #reader insert #deltarune susie #deltarune ralsei #ralsei #susie deltarune #susie #deltarune self insert #deltarune fandom #deltarune fanfiction

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ryverbind · 1 year

Text

Faceless Fixation {Sal Fisher}: Fingertips and Fishnets [9]

As if on cue, Sally walks up to us with a slightly puzzled look in his eyes. He slows his pace once he gets closer, looking between our huddled group with a bottle of Budweiser in his right hand. Ew.

Then his eyes narrow as he scoots around us and sits on the stairs leading up to the stage. Our eyes follow him, but Larry and Ash are painfully obvious about it.

"What?" Sally murmurs softly, looking between his friends and purposefully trying to avoid me from what I can tell. Do I make him nervous?

If that's the case now, then it's bound to change once he finds out I'm VioletViolence.

"Uh," Larry drags out, tapping his fingers together. "Um."

"No," I cut Larry off. "Sally's playing the game, too. We'll see if he can figure it out for himself, but," I watch Sally carefully as he looks down at his beer, avoiding all of us. "That also means he has the opportunity to get the same treatment you all did."

I feel like I'm going to vomit when Sal's oceanic gaze clashes with mine. It's like his eyes alone have knocked me off my feet. The eye contact makes my heart race, makes my knees weak, and makes me tense up like I've just gotten jostled around a bit too much. But I don't turn away from him. I watch him.

And karma is sitting on my shoulder, asking if I'm ready to get kicked in the ass for this somewhere in the near future.

And my answer to her is yes.

"Sally," I say, a bit more confident than just seconds ago despite my raging physical reactions to his attention on me. "I kissed Ash. I kissed Larry. I hugged Todd," I start, watching his eyes grow a bit wider. I have to contain a smirk from ruining this entire charade for me.

"Can I kiss you too?"

Everyone is dead silent to the point that the music blurs out in the background. We wait for an answer with bated breath, no one able to truly process what was just said.

No, Todd didn't ask. Neither did Sally. Those words came from my mouth and the bluenette was the sole receiver of that question.

I'm honestly a bit shocked by the question myself. I don't know what possessed me to ask him that. Is it curiosity? A desire for revenge? Why the fuck did I say that?

I can't see his face, but I can tell, without a shadow of a doubt, that Sally is hardcore gaping at me. It shows in the pink tint growing under his eyes and his wide, blown out pupils. I can't even see the edges of his eyebrows right now.

"E-Excuse me?" he squeaks out, clearing his throat. "I'm sorry, I won't take my prosthetic off," he gently says, surprising me.

My nose scrunches lightly as I force a smile onto my face despite my shock. Is he really this soft and bashful? He was incredibly confident with Lexi, then an ass to Vi and y/n. So what is going on here?

"You don't have to take your prosthetic off for me to kiss you. I won't do anything you aren't comfortable with. Would you be okay with that?" I ask him, taking a hesitant step forward.

Will my mouth ever stop? And can my feet pause? Please?

My brain is fighting a losing battle with my body. I scream at myself to stop, to walk away, but I can't. I can't stop everything that's happening and the longer it goes on, the more my mind... doesn't want to stop.

Sally's rings scratch across glass as he tightens his hand around his bottle, never breaking our tense eye contact. "U-Um." He blinks at me, cursing beneath his breath. "I mean, you-- you can do whatever you want, I guess."

I flinch, trying to hide the action as a shiver. But, in truth, I'm flabbergasted. Does he find me attractive? Is that why he's so nervous but open to a kiss regardless? I don't know what to think of this guy. I've met and experienced so many sides of him, but he ends up having more fucking sides.

Will these discoveries ever stop?

"Okay," I finally push out, pinching my lips together for a moment. "One condition. It's the same condition I gave Ash. Is there anyone on this earth that you would not want to kiss you?" I'm going to be fair with him. I'm not an asshole-- if he says he doesn't want VioletViolence to kiss him, then I'll keep my distance.

Honestly, he's probably going to spit my name out in a minute here. Even if we do have some sexual attraction to each other-- even if he owes me an orgasm-- I won't kiss him without consent.

"No, there's no one I wouldn't really want to kiss me. Not that I can think of." Sally surprises me with his words again, lightly shaking his head as he speaks, still staring into my eyes.

"Are you absolutely sure?" I ask again, trying to give him the hint. Maybe he'll catch on.

But all he does is nod, his gaze taking on a yearning glint that makes me want to turn and walk away. He wants this bad, and gosh, why does he want it so badly? I almost feel like I can hear his voice in my head, on his knees and begging me so prettily.

Why him? And why am I pushing to kiss him?

Dangerous as always.

My feet move on their own again, dragging me over to where Sally's seated until I'm staring down at him, his face just a few inches below mine. And he simply watches me, waiting patiently on the outside, but fidgeting and foaming at the mouth on the inside. I can see it in his captivating eyes. He's incredibly easy to read.

My breath comes out in shattered pants that I try to quiet down as I gently lift my hands, gaining the opportunity to slide one over the tattoo on his neck. My pulse is racing and I can feel it in every inch of my body. My heart thumps so aggressively that I'm afraid he'll feel it in my fingertips.

Sally's Adam's apple bobs as he gulps nervously, the action stealing my attention. I watch the way his throat moves, then take note of my fingers brushing over his tattoo. I can instantly feel heat pool between my legs, so I drag my thighs together to contain some of my dignity, if at all possible.

I look into Sal's eyes again, mapping out a scar in his left eyebrow and another directly under his eye. They aren't deep, but they were probably deep enough at some point if they're still here. I don't know the magnitude of his injury, but I'm an understanding person. I see why he chooses to cover himself, though I wish he wouldn't. He may be an aggravating prick, but I wouldn't miss a chance to admire his beauty.

I still ache to touch his skin and see what's hidden beneath the prosthetic just inches away from me. Part of me thinks I'll always ache this way.

I push one hand through his soft cerulean hair, nearly groaning at the contact. I thought this would be hard for him, but it's even harder for me. To contain myself even though I want to just sit on his lap and kiss him senseless-- when I want to steal his breath away so badly. He still has some restraint, but I'm holding onto mine by a worn thread.

My hand drags through his hair to the nape of his neck, then I pull gently. Sally closes his eyes momentarily, and when he opens them again, they're hooded-- like he's accepted his fate and is adjusting to the tense air around us. He's embracing our situation.

Cool hands brush over my thighs and I nearly jump in surprise, but I manage to keep myself rooted in place. I don't have to look down to know that Sally's weaving his fingers through the holes of my fishnets, his fingertips digging into my skin.

I take a deep, shuddering breath when he spreads his legs, using his grip on my thighs to pull me closer, letting me walk into the space he's created.

Sally's in control now, watching me confidently and lustfully, unassuming but expecting. He's ready, and I'm far from it. This is going to change everything for me, but I can't seem to stop myself. I can't make myself step away.

His painted fingernails scratch softly against my heated skin, a dull stinging feeling following the action. He squints his eyes, like he's trying to tell me to hurry up. That he doesn't want to wait anymore.

It's a snapping point for me. Just the little bit of skin-to-skin contact makes me lose all sensibility, though my ability to play the long game is still intact. Somehow.

I bring a hand up, running my palm over the rough material of his prosthetic. It doesn't feel how I imagined it would. It looks smooth, but feels more like plaster. So I use my hand to pull him toward me a bit, then I lean down the rest of the way.

I gently press my lips against his rough prosthetic lips and shut my eyes. They aren't his lips, but I'm close enough to him for now. I'm able to hear the deep, muffled breath he takes with our proximity.

Sally's fingers leave the holes of my fishnets and wrap around the back of my thighs instead, his full hand enveloping my skin tightly, making my heart race at an uncomfortable and slightly concerning rate.

His hands squeeze around my legs, the edge of his fingers brushing against the end of my skirt as he yanks me a little closer despite our lips never being able to touch. I suck in a breath through my nose at his actions, gently scratching at the tattoo on his neck.

Then, I pull away. I'm not entirely sure how I've managed to do it, but I find the willpower and separate my lips from his prosthetic ones.

He's still gripping onto my skin, my chest pressed to his-- when did that happen?-- and he's breathing hard, nearly panting. To think that I have such an effect on him. Then again, I'm in the same exact disheveled state that he's in. I can't say shit.

I release a shaky breath, looking into his intense icy eyes that stare back at me confidently, but still a bit shocked.

I bite my bottom lip. I need to put an end to this before things escalate and I put myself in a hole I can't dig my way out of. "You wouldn't even mind if the person you hated most in the world kissed you?" I breathe out, watching his brows furrow a bit.

"I don't hate anyone," Sally rasps in his deep voice. My heart skips a beat and I wish he'd squeeze me tighter. Touch me more. Run his hands over every inch of my body. I don't even care that we're on a rooftop full of people.

He smells like bergamot and leather-- just like the first time he and I met. And he must use some type of musky, masculine shampoo because I can't help but gravitate closer to him to try and drown in his scent.

"I think that's a lie, Sally," I say softly, watching him glance back and forth between my eyes and mouth. He looks like he's thinking what I'm thinking-- that he wants this prosthetic off and our lips to actually meet. "What about VioletViolence? Don't you hate her?"

Sally gulps again and I squeeze the side of his neck, running my thumb over the soft skin of his neck and wishing I could trace the outline of his dagger tattoo.

"Are you trying to piss me off?" he murmurs, his grip loosening on my thighs. Ah, he's catching onto the hints I'm giving off even if he doesn't understand them yet. He knows something's up, though.

I snap myself out of the spell I so desperately want to stay under. But, I do indulge in the opportunity a bit more.

My fingers drag from the side of his prosthetic and down the length of his neck-- over his Adam's apple and just under the collar of his shirt. "I'm not trying to piss you off. I'm trying to tell you something." I look into his eyes, practically screaming for him to read between the lines without words. "Put it together, Sal." His name falls from my lips like a carnal plea before I can even stop myself.

But his name seems to snap him to reality and he narrows his eyes at me.

My hands fall from his body as his pull away from my thighs. I don't move from between his legs though, I just watch the gears visibly turn in his head.

And I enjoy the moment he walks through each stage of grief. Fuck, it feels damn good.

I can see the second he suspects me, but thinks that it's not possible. Then, he physically grows angry at the audacity of VioletViolence thinking she can kiss him. After, he tries to think of ways he can escape this situation or get me away from him. Next, he's struggling to understand how he was able to fall victim to my vice-like, hypnotizing words. And finally, he accepts the fact that I'm standing before him.

It's gratifying to watch him regress to the anger stage. I witness the exact moment he snaps, his glaring eyes connecting with mine like a depraved animal breaking out of its cage and meeting its aggressor.

He jumps to his feet, beer bottle smashing to the ground beside us.

His face is mere centimeters from mine and I can hear his harsh, panting, angry breaths as he glares into my soul. Any normal person would be petrified, but I'm elated.

My smile makes him even angrier, especially since its wide and beaming and I can't contain it.

"What the fuck," Sally seethes, his hand slapping onto my wrist and gripping it like he's trying to strangle his most hated enemy.

Let's be honest, he's definitely imagining my arm being replaced with my neck.

Sally and I simply stare at each other for a moment, neither of us saying a word.

He's fuming to the point that I can see his red cheeks even with his prosthetic hiding his face from me. It makes no difference-- he wouldn't be able to hide this anger even if he was hidden by a wall of cement. It's in his stance, in his eyes, in his white knuckles flexing tighter around my wrist.

"How the fuck are you even here," he mutters quietly, tilting his head down as the words fall from his lips like the sweetest wine laced with venom.

In any other situation, I'd shudder, but I'm full of adrenaline. I just got to kiss the guy who's been driving me nuts (in a good and bad way) for at least two weeks now. And he's positively falling apart over my well-thought out, meticulous, and frankly, very last minute deception.

Sally Face is but a small, delicate, and fragile withered leaf in my hands right now. He's painfully aware of the fact that I could crush him immediately, but he's still fighting with all his might.

Part of me thinks he wouldn't mind being crushed by me to begin with.

"Simple," I reply to him, my voice airy and melodic just to rub in whatever shitty emotions are taking hold of him. "I was invited."

"Clearly," he sneers, slightly tilting his head to the side. He gives my wrist another tight squeeze, narrows his eyes, then rips his hand away from my arm so quickly that anyone else would think I'd stabbed him.

Which would be valid considering he stabbed me during that game a couple nights ago. I have yet to get my revenge.

Sally watches me, his slightly taller stature looming over me like some kind of demonic shadow. I never cower though, I simply stare into the eyes of personified evil and smile, relishing in the way his eye suddenly twitches. And what's more damning for him is that he doesn't say a word.

"Hm?" I hum, tilting my head menacingly, giving off the most impressive display of passive-aggressiveness. "Still can't talk to me?"

I can picture the moment Sally's reminded of the moment he betrayed his deepest desires with me two nights ago now. He blinks, eyebrows suddenly rising. If he didn't have the prosthetic, I just know his lips would be parted, trying to come up with something to say.

A choked sound leaves his throat before he quickly recovers and slaps the intimidating glare back onto the small percentage of his face that I can actually see.

Uh huh. Not your best moment, huh?

"I can speak perfectly well," Sally manages, taking a step away from me with malice practically radiating off of him. "The issue is that you can't. Hasn't anyone ever told you to use your words? You won't get anywhere without them."

I raise an eyebrow, a little offended by his claim. He doesn't know a single thing about me. Who is he to tell me that I don't talk enough? Does he have no recollection of the plethora of times he and I have bitched and bickered?

"Excuse me?" I force out, furrowing my brows. I want to know what he's trying to get at with that stupid phrase.

Sally shrugs, glancing around at the puddle of beer at his feet. "No one knows what you want if you can't communicate. It's an incredibly easy way to lose something you desire." His eyes connect with mine momentarily, the fairy lights above catching his irises and illuminating them in such a mesmerizing way. The unnatural blue of his eyes clashes with mine and I feel stuck for a moment, replaying his words in my mind and trying to deduce the meaning behind each syllable.

Once he looks away from me again, it finally clicks in my head.

I pinch my lips together and ponder over what facial expression I should make to mask the embarrassment coursing through my veins.

The audacity he has to hint that I'm on thin ice has me reeling. I don't know what to say, much less what to think.

To be as confident as he is in this moment suggests that there's a very clear reason as to why he hasn't brought up our little... adventure, of sorts, in two days. Why he hasn't spoken to me at all.

Not that I want to talk about it. But we have to work with each other for a while and based on how everyone else feels about me, this won't be that last time he and I have to meet or interact. I don't want shit to be awkward.

Hell, I don't even need him to handle up on the promise he made. I'll be perfectly happy with forgetting that it ever happened.

But, his words suggest that he's still up to honor the proposition he made that night. He hinted that he's ready to drop me and the thought of continuing whatever that was, but he hasn't yet. He made that very clear.

Suddenly, a bottle of Budweiser is shoved over my shoulder. I stare at it with wide eyes, looking up at Sally who looks from me, to the bottle, then over my shoulder.

"Here, man," It's Larry. "Ash and I went to grab you another beer. Thank Ash though, not me. I made her come with me because I have no more cash."

Ah, so that's why it's been so quiet. The two troublemakers ran off and left Todd to awkwardly watch Sally and I's showdown.

Sally snorts, unamused, simply performing the action for the sake of the moment. "Where's Ash?" he asks, his voice nowhere near as soft and kind as it was just a few minutes ago. He's completely changed tactic and even Larry raises his eyebrows at the attitude change when I look over my shoulder at him.

When Larry notices me, his eyes fall to mine and he fixes his expression, wiggling his eyebrows at me with a little grin on his pretty lips.

Oh no, look away.

I throw him a little smile before looking forward at Sally again. Yikes, gotta get used to how ridiculously hot Larry is.

Sally's watching me with a contemplative and suspicious look in his electric eyes. He reaches a hand up, his tattooed arm mere inches from my mask as he takes the bottle from Larry.

The sound of his rings clanking against glass makes me flinch and I lose a little bit of my resolve before I can think otherwise. I glance to the side, getting a close-up look at the ink on his skin. Each stroke is perfect, straight. Not a single error whether the markings are thin or straight.

I gulp down whatever feeling is clawing its way up my throat and make eye contact with Sally again.

It pains me to watch a smug look cross his stupidly pretty eyes. He watched me ogle his tattoos and I fucking hate that he knows that I'm interested in them in some way or another.

He pulls his hand away from beside my head just as quickly as he put it there. The beer dangles between Sally's fingertips as he watches me for another moment before looking up at Larry again.

"Lar?" He rasps in his sickeningly addictive voice. The sound nearly makes me choke and I have to remember to get used to attractive friends all over again. I cannot fucking stand this compromising position I've been put in.

"Huh?" Larry chirps from behind me. He throws his arms around my shoulders then leans a bit of his weight against my back, laying his head on his forearm beside my face. I swear I could vomit when his strong biceps flex around my neck, not tightly, but to the point where I can feel it. Then, his head lightly taps the side of mine and I hear an amused little hum leave his throat, the feeling of his chest vibrating against me making me want to run for the hills. He must be doing this on purpose.

He has a very specific scent. It mainly consists of some kind of musky note, but there's just a hint of cinnamon that would overpower the other smell had there been anymore added to it. It's a tantalizing combination that's enveloping me a bit too much considering the way I'm about to fling myself out of his grip like a catapult from hell.

Sally looks unimpressed as I gaze up. There's no doubt in my mind that my entire face is red. Even if most of it is hidden, it wouldn't take much for anyone to see my blush. It's quite obvious by the way Sally rolls his eyes. "I asked you where Ash was," he says, jutting his head up toward Larry who lazily sways us.

Larry's grip is unforgiving in the sense that I feel like I'm suffocating under the weight of all his hotness. Literally. There's no romantic feelings involved, nor are there any sexual ones, but it's just the fact that someone this hot is so comfortable with me. If Sal were to do this, I think I'd be reacting even worse.

Thank God I'll never have to worry about being placed in that position.

"Oh," Larry perks up a bit, nuzzling his cheek on the side of my mask like a cat would. The only thing missing is purring. "Kieran caught her, but she should be back any minute."

"She better hurry. I don't plan on staying much longer," Sally's eyes flicker to me again and I automatically glare at him, pursing my lips in a bit of a second nature response. All I ever do in his presence is glare, so I'm used to it. "And she's not coming," he continues, narrowing his eyes at me.

Larry groans behind me, the sound reverberating through my entire body. "So you've found out who she is?" Larry complains. I blink in response, trying to catch my breath as the man takes a step closer to me, his legs touching the back of my thighs. "We got here like an hour ago, man. We have to stay a little longer," Larry tries to reason. "And Vi's definitely coming with us. Leaving doesn't mean you'll escape."

The harsh look that Sally directs at Larry makes me want to shiver. It's cold, calculating, a little devilish. Poor guy. He really isn't in the mood-- but I couldn't care less.

"I came here just to see you, Sally. Why would I let you leave now?" I pout, batting my lashes at the slightly taller man who scowls.

"Fuck, you're so damn hard to be around," he nearly snarls in response, aggressively raking a hand through his fluffy hair and never taking his angry eyes off of me.

"Funny you say that," I say, excitement ripping my veins apart as I spit out a witty reply. "I'm a connoisseur of hard things. Wanna find out which ones?"

"Oooouuuu," Larry loudly pronounces the sound, seemingly impressed. I look toward him and he looks at me, his dark eyes shining with mirth and pride. "Good one," he snickers, poking my collarbone as he flashes his teeth in a sweet smile. "And yes, I would very much like to find out which hard things you are referring to." He raises his eyebrows almost as if he's offering me the opportunity to show him what I'm talking about.

I pinch my lips together to contain a grin as I turn away from him, scrunching my nose up in a nearly failed attempt to hold back a laugh. Larry is so awesome.

Sally grunts in front of me. "You could be a bit more inconspicuous about wanting to dick her down," he murmurs. "Don't know why you'd want to in the first place," he adds, but this time it's much quieter and I think I'm the only one who was able to hear.

I take a breath, hoping to quell the fire coursing through my body in response to Sally's words. Clearly, he doesn't even believe what he said about me, but I still feel the urge to prove him wrong regardless. Maybe it's just my mind trying to give me an excuse to have another moment with him. I don't really know.

"Why would I be inconspicuous?" Larry exclaims, his voice perfectly portraying how appalled he feels. And just like that, I feel much better about myself. "No one ever got laid by being inconspicuous, man. Not a single fucking person in history. I'd get on my knees and explain just how badly I need pussy to survive if it meant I'd be guaranteed a fuck." Larry snorts and nudges me with his forehead so I glance over at him, borderline shaking in his grip from trying to fight off the world's most ridiculous giggles. "Do you want me to get on my knees, Vi?"

I watch Larry's sharp eyebrows pinch together lightly, his chocolate eyes glinting in the low lighting as he suddenly turns serious, though the ghost of a smile still shows in the way his lips twitch.

It takes everything I've got to keep myself together as I lift a hand and pat his warm, toned forearm. My fingers wrap around his skin despite knowing that I should lay off the touching. After all, Larry did call me out on it earlier.

"You are such a fucking creature," I spit out, smiling goofily at the man hanging onto my shoulders. Larry can't fight off his grin anymore either as his gaze flits over my face before he looks into my eyes again.

"So..." he starts, slowly rolling his eyes to add a bit of dramatic flare. "you'd still fuck a creature then, right?"

A bellowing laugh leaves my lips and I have to close my eyes and look away from him. I don't know how he manages to come up with rebuttals like this, but it makes him dangerously hilarious. I'm honestly shocked he doesn't have a girlfriend.

"Get off of me, you fucking hooligan," I giggle, squirming in Larry's grip. He chuckles with me for a moment, squeezing me a bit tighter and laying his head on top of mine before finally releasing me from his clutches.

I stumble forward, nearly into Sally who flinches away like I'm some kind of infectious disease. The fun moment is cracked for a moment as I look up at the guarded and almost disgusted look in his eyes. But I force myself to stand up straight and take a step away from him.

The smile on my face never falls away as I spin on my heels, finally getting Sally out of my direct line of sight even though I'm standing beside him (with a good five foot distance between us, mind you).

Larry smiles with me, crossing his arms over his chest.

I look to the side, making quick eye contact with Todd who's smiling fondly at me. He winks discreetly and I wink back before looking past him and to Ash who's elatedly skipping over to our group.

A beaming smile envelops my face once Ash finally notices me. I watch her eyes grow as wide as saucers, then the way she nearly trips over her own feet while fighting to get over to the group faster.

She's so excited. I feel as though I could burst with joy and adrenaline that honestly hasn't died down even a bit since I finally made contact with The Faces.

"Ash," Sally calls from beside me, his deep voice attracting the attention of a few other party-goers around us.

I'm about to open my arms for a hug from Ash as she draws closer, answering Sally with a loud and piercing, "What!?" when my phone buzzes.

My eyebrows draw together as I struggle to pull my phone from the waistband of my skirt without dropping the drink in my other hand.

Normally, I'd let whatever message that just came in rot on my lock screen until I found the time and energy to reply, but I'm in another state and the text might be from dad.

I finally get my phone into my hands and try to maneuver it around until the screen is upright, using my hip as leverage. At some point, I can finally see who's messaged me and I huff out a relieved breath, blowing a strand of hair out of my face as I look over my phone.

Nate :P im home.

Oh, shit. My fucking neighbor. I forgot about him and I know exactly why he's texting me.

Nathan lives next to dad and I-- he and I are the same age and we went to high school together, so we get along pretty well. The guy's nice and doesn't talk much-- he drops by to play Mario Kart sometimes or to share his homemade brownies. He's been gone for over a month, something about traveling for school. I think he went to Colorado?

Me hey nate! glad to hear ur back :)

Nate :P i want my screwdriver back.

I was genuinely hoping he'd forget.

With a little frown marring my features, I shift my cup so it's clutched between my ribs and my arm as I use both hands to try and explain my situation to my neighbor. I can hear Ash and Larry chirping back and forth to each other excitedly while Sally and Todd pitch in here and there. I'll get back to them in a moment.

Me i figured as much :,) i'm uhhhh not home rn

I use his damn screwdriver to fix my headphones from time to time. Yea, I should just get my own screwdriver or a new set of headphones, but why would I do that when I have an awesome neighbor who lends me his tools since I don't have the money to replace my things?

Nate :P is that another excuse to keep it for longer.

Wincing, I type out a reply quickly, feeling nervous over how quickly he was able to see through me. That's impressive, especially since he was able to do that over text.

Me okay, yes, but i wasn't kidding when i said i'm not home, i swear :(( i'm literally in vegas rn. i'll be back tomorrow!!

Nate :P i'm holding you to that, y/n. i want my tools back or no more brownies. ever.

Me okay, okay!!!!!!! gosh :(((((( you will have your screwdriver back tomorrow night i SWEAR!

Nate doesn't answer immediately like he previously had been, so I chew on my lip anxiously as I wait. I really hope he doesn't take away my brownie privileges. I've never eaten one quite as yummy as his.

"Vi, you good over there?" Ash's sing-songish voice pulls my attention away for a moment and I look up, noting the way she's wrapped up in Larry's arms just like I was earlier. Except she's fighting it hard, scowling as he cackles.

I grin, nodding. "Yep, just handling up on some things back home."

My gaze gravitates to Sally who has the bottom of his prosthetic unbuckled and pulled up so he can drink his beer through a straw. The sight makes me want to giggle, but at the same time, I'm able to get a view of the scars on his chin which automatically quells any and all bubbly thoughts I previously had.

Fuck, I know he's hot under the prosthetic.

I peel my eyes away from him and look back at my phone one last time.

Nate :P one chance. if i don't have the screwdriver in my hands tmr you can kiss the brownies goodbye for a full month and no less.

I can't help but smile and snort out a laugh at his response.

Me gotcha. :P

With a shake of my head, I tuck my phone back into my skirt and focus in on my friends again, taking a quick sip of my fiery drink.

I watch as Ash throws an elbow into Larry's stomach, making him grunt in opposition before finally letting her go. Clearly it didn't hurt him at all, he just decided to let up for her sake. The man is built like a five layer brick wall. I don't even think I monster truck could lay him out.

Honestly, the only think that could bring Larry to his knees is a pretty girl. He said it himself-- he'd get on his knees and beg for pussy. Other than that, he's got every advantage in the world as far as I'm concerned.

With a faux frown, Larry leans down until his face is right in front of Ash's, which he didn't have to lean down much, by the way. "I just love hugs, Ash. Why won't you let me hug you?" he asks.

"Because you're you, you horny fuck!" Ash scoffs, shoving Larry away from her with a manicured hand to his face and a small, amused smile on her glossy lips. "Anyway," she continues, turning her head to me. "We're about to leave because Sal is being grouchy. You're coming with us, right?"

My lips part as I glance between my friends who silently wait for my answer-- aside from Sally.

"She's not coming anywhere with us," he instantly says, his tone biting. He never looks at me.

A smile grows on my face as I look back to Ash. "Of course I'll come with you guys," I say excitedly, completely ignoring the icy look that Sally throws me. "Where are we headed?"

_____________

A/N::::::: I LOVVVVEEEEE THE BEGINNING OF THIS ONE ISHFOIHVFEFEHI it gets me so excited :3

anyway, hi honey's!!! i hope this chapter is as pleasing as i pictured it being! i've had part of it written for a while, but just had to add the rest. it surprisingly flowed easily once i started writing again which is fucking awesome cause i always want to give you guys my best!

as always, i'm sending all my love and positive vibes. thank you for being here and thank you for the continued support. you're all so awesome <333

P.S. to my babies who are reading/have read maybe today-- I'M COMING!!!! i'm lowkey manic right now and need to be feeling a specific way to get the next chapter out LMAO. soon, i promise <333

#sally face fandom #sally face fanfiction #sal fisher #sally face #future smut #enemies to lovers #larry johnson #ash campbell #travis phelps #todd morrison

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lostcauseinc · 13 days

Note

Please put little chastity belts with locks over my sleeves and hide the keys so I can’t cut without your permission, no matter how badly I want to…. Take away my favorite blades and lock them up tight… then, you can watch my increasingly pathetic, desperate attempts to find something, ANYTHING to break my skin. First it’ll start with forks, pens, keys…. But then, when you catch me trying to cut myself with them, I’m sure you’ll scold me and punish me by taking them away…. then, with no options left, I’ll have to resort to trying to helplessly rub and grind my wrists on table corners and scratch them with my little nails... but no matter how desperately I try, nothing will work. All I’ll be able to do is grind myself on the outside of the box, because at least I know my blades are in there, and sit by as you watch me slowly slip into heat as days and days pass by without me earning that release… Then, finally, when I’m at my limit, once you’ve finally burned the humiliating sight of me trying desperately to cut myself with whatever I can get my hands on into your brain, and once I’ve been good enough to earn it… reward me with a fresh, new blade…

God, you're so fucking pathetic.

Obvious content warning.

I'd check your skin every night just to make sure you haven't cut at all, wrapping your arms in thick bandages and daring you to so much as touch them, threatening to toss out your blades and tie up your wrists if you try taking them off.

I think a more fitting punishment would be to hold you down and so so lightly trace whatever makeshift item you found across your skin, tracing over scars but barely touching the skin. Making you beg until you're a sobbing little mess for permission to so much as scratch your skin raw, then reprimanding you for being so impatient. Forcing your hand still as I trim down your nails so you can't do shit until I let you, locking up more and more things until every sharp in the house is safely hidden away.

You'd make such a pretty picture desperately trying to find relief from anything, wouldn't you? Just an adorable little thing slowly losing their mind while I get to watch. It'd be hard to finally let you have it, I'd be so fucking tempted to see how far you'll go to get your fix, what you'd do for me to earn the right to cut back.

But I would, eventually. Because I'm so gracious, aren't I? And you're so good for me, aren't you? But even after all that waiting, I don't let you run off with your reward. Maybe I force you to let me watch as you break in your pretty new blade, telling you how cute and pathetic you look all the while. I might even give you instructions, forcing you to be slow and careful and to thank me after every cut for letting you have this.

I think it'd be adorable if you had to ask permission for every little mark for days afterwards. Like I need you to prove to me you can control yourself, that you'll keep being good and sweet for me. Threatening to lock everything up again, to make you wait even longer next time if you aren't perfectly in line. But I'm sure I wouldn't have to worry about you misbehaving, right? You'll learn the first time. You're a good pet.

#sh k1nk #sh kink #cvtting kink #lostresponds #fantastic thoughts dear anon #thank you for sharing 🖤#$h tw

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changelingsandothernonsense · 10 months

Text

Wip when I get the time.

Hey! I got tagged again. Thanks to @thequeenofthewinter, @mareenavee, @friend-of-giants, @archangelsunited and @elfinismsarts for the tags, I'll get to everyone's posts! I've been avoiding certain parts of the internet this week for my sanity so have been a bit slow getting to things <3 Anyways this week is art and writing again. I've finished 1 art, almost finished another and started one that is a little on the NSFW side, yay me. Oh and because I've been down it's obviously more Josh because that's all my brain can draw atm. Art!

Yeah, Glock!Josh is almost done and the meme is almost over! Next art is under the cut coz length lol.

And here's the most self-indulgent thing I have ever created...the safety version!

It is very self-indulgent, will be a massive pain in the ass and I can't post the full image outside of discord and pillowfort but dammit I'm going to paint this!

Now writing!

More Josh, he's gotten off the boat and is stuck in a room. What's he gonna do? Fuck with Socucius Ergalla of course! It's all dialogue so feel free to skip and just look at the art. :)

“Thank you, now on to the next question,” the Breton paused for a moment, did he expect Teldryn to interrupt him again? “Your cousin-”

“I don’t have a cousin,” Teldryn interjected, oh he was going to enjoy this.

The Breton sighed before continuing his line of questioning, “Your cousin has given you a very embarrassing nickname and, even worse, likes to call you it in front of your friends. You asked him to stop, but he finds it very amusing to watch you blush.”

“Well, I don’t know what you Bretons like to do with your cousins but-“

“Will you shut up!” The Breton finally raised his voice at him, just the rise Teldryn was looking for.

“Of course, officer, please do continue with these very important questions,” he pointed at his right ear, “I’m all ear.”

“Your three options are, A. Beat up your cousin, then tell him that if he ever calls you that nickname again, you will bloody him worse the next time.”

Teldryn nodded, he’d let him finish this one.

“B. Make up a story that makes your nickname a badge of honour instead of something humiliating. Or C. Make up an even more embarrassing nickname for him and use it constantly until he learns his lesson.”

“All three,” Teldryn stated before scratching his nose again.

“Choose one please,” the Breton’s tone was becoming increasingly irate.

Teldryn laughed and took a step towards the desk, sitting on its edge. His chains shook as he moved, “You see first I’d cover for myself, make that name sound all heroic in front of these friends.” He moved some of the papers to the side, earning a somewhat mortified look from the Agent. He grinned at the Breton before continuing, “Then I’d call my cousin over, wait for him to use it again and beat the shit out of him. Teach him a lesson and all that. I’ll have plenty of ammunition for an even worse name later!” He laughed to himself before standing back up and returning to his original position, “It’s fucking brilliant!”

The agent just pinched the bridge of his nose, bit his tongue, “Next question.” Teldryn would take that as a win.

“There is a lot of heated discussion at the local tavern over a group of people called 'Telepaths'. They have been hired by certain City-State kings. Rumour has it these Telepaths read a person's mind and tell their Lord whether a follower is telling the truth or not.”

Teldryn remained quiet this time, why not let him continue this one?

“What do you think of this rumour? A. This is a terrible practice. A person's thoughts are his own and no one, not even a king, has the right to make such an invasion into another human's mind.”

Well, this was an odd one, didn’t the Empire use these sorts of mages in their spy rings?

“B. Loyal followers to the king have nothing to fear from a Telepath. It is important to have a method of finding assassins and spies before it is too late.”

“What kind of bootlicking response is that?” Teldryn muttered under his breath, it earned him a stern glare from the Agent before him.

“And finally, C. in these times, it is a necessary evil. Although you do not necessarily like the idea, a Telepath could have certain advantages during a time of war or in finding someone innocent of a crime.”

“How are any of these answers options?” Teldryn shifted his weight where he stood, why was this room so hot? “Oh, I don’t know…The first option is the least stupid.”

“That is the most common response among recruit- “The Breton paused, he’d clearly misspoken, Teldryn decided to keep that bit of information for later, “amongst those being released.”

Teldryn just nodded silently, the word recruit still swimming in his mind.

“Question five, your mother sends you to the market with a list of goods to buy. After you finish you find that by mistake a shopkeeper has given you too much money back in exchange for one of the items.”

And the thought of his mother trusting him with coin and a list sent Teldryn into another laughing fit, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please continue,” This was just ridiculous!

The Breton furrowed his brow. Clearly, he was trying his best to keep his composure, “Do you A. Return to the store and give the shopkeeper his hard-earned money, explaining to him the mistake. B. Decide to put the extra money to good use and purchase items that would help your family. Or C. Pocket the extra money, knowing that shopkeepers in general tend to overcharge customers anyway.”

“Is this a trick question?” Teldryn asked, “You do know what I was arrested for? Right? It’s in that fancy notebook you’ve got there.” Teldryn pointed to the ledger that the Census and Excise Agent had closed earlier.

“It’s a hypothetical situation, now could you please answer the question without all the commentary please.”

“What do you think?” Teldryn shook his head.

“I don’t know, you need to answer the question.”

“The latter,” he looked up at the ceiling and noticed a long, thin crack in the plaster, how much longer was this going to take? He was beginning to feel restless, for a variety of reasons, he did just wander off a cramped ship after all.

The Breton took a deep breath before moving on to the next question, “While in the marketplace, you witness a thief cut a purse from a noble. Even as he does so, the noble notices and calls for the city guards. In his haste to get away, the thief drops the purse near you. Surprisingly no one seems to notice the bag of coins at your feet.”

“Oh, another trick question ha?” Teldryn moved back onto his heels, the shackles around his ankles pinching at his skin. He really wanted those things off. The old man ignored his comment.

“Do you choose option A. Pick up the bag and signal to the guard, knowing that the only honourable thing to do is return the money to its rightful owner.”

“What bullshit!”

The Breton glared at him again, “Do you B. Leave the bag there, knowing that it is better not to get involved.”

“Also bullshit and terribly stupid.”

“Or finally do you choose C. Pick up the bag and pocket it, knowing that the extra windfall will help your family in times of trouble.”

“Oh, come on officer! What kind of leading questions are these?” Teldryn watched as he scribbled something down into that ledger. Notes? Was he being assessed? Teldryn sighed, “Fine, the last one.”

“Thank you, question seven, your father sends you on a task which you loathe, cleaning the stables. On the way there, pitchfork in hand, you run into your friend from the homestead near your own. He offers to do it for you, in return for a future favour of his choosing.” He paused, glancing at Teldryn for a moment before continuing, “Do you A. Decline his offer, knowing that your father expects you to do the work, and it is better not to be in debt.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Enough commentary please,” the Breton snapped. He wrote something else down in that ledger as he continued his line of questioning, “Do you choose option B. Ask him to help you, knowing that two people can do the job faster than one, and agree to help him with one task of his choosing in the future.”

“Also stupid,” Teldryn interjected again.

“Please just let me finish,” no, this was stupid and Teldryn was adamant that he’d prove that point, “Or finally C. Accept his offer, reasoning that as long as the stables are cleaned, it matters not who does the cleaning.”

Teldryn smiled, He attempted to fold his arms but got caught in the chains, he leaned back instead, “Oh that’s easy, if the s’wit is stupid enough to want to shovel guar-shit, then he can shovel guar-shit.”

“Interesting way to put it, most ah, prisoners choose the second option,” he continued scribbling down what Teldryn assumed was his answer or a commentary on his answer, he couldn’t quite see.

“Well then, most prisoners are stupid,” Teldryn offered, he found another knot in his hair to fiddle with. It felt greasy, he didn’t like it one bit.

“Question eight, your mother asks you to help fix the stove. While you are working, a very hot pipe slips its mooring and falls towards her.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?” The Breton questioned, pausing long enough to dip his stylus into the inkpot.

“I’m not helping mother with a stove! This question is stupid! Next!”

“Please, we only have two left!” the Breton’s composure slipped again as he raised his voice at Teldryn, “Now option A-“

“Next. Question.” Teldryn growled through gritted teeth, he was officially over these questions and it seemed that in this case, the Census and Excise Agent was just as willing to move on.

He flipped through a few pages, marking each as he went, the elderly man appeared to be clenching his jaw as he went, “Question nine, while in town the baker gives you a sweet roll. Delighted, you take it into an alley to enjoy only to be intercepted by a gang of three other kids your age. The leader demands the sweet roll, or else he and his friends will beat you and take it.”

“Kid sounds like a dick, if you ask me,” Teldryn interjected, really what was the point of this?

#wip whenever #my art #my writing #teldryn sero #dunmer #danger!josh #skyrim #morrowind #nerevarine!teldryn #nerevarine #Morrowind fic lol

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waltwhitmansbeard · 1 year

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go on, claim my heart: chapter thirty-six

see my masterpost for what came before this.

When Percy returns to his chambers, he is unsurprised to find Vex there waiting for him. Perhaps he should be surprised; there are a great many things for the Captain of the Royal Guard to be attending to at this moment, from the upcoming mourning ceremonies to the following coronation of the new sovereign to a reorganization of the guard following a kidnapping of a member of the royal family. Yet he opens the door, and there she is, sitting on the end of the bed, feet on the footboard, elbows on her knees, exactly where he knew she'd be.

She watches him in silence as he slips out of his shoes, shrugs off his coat, hangs it carefully on the hook by the door. The weapon he keeps at his hip goes onto his desk, and then he sits beside her. Without a word, her arms come to circle his neck, and she pulls him back, so that their shoulders hit the mattress and she's holding him, keeping his face pressed into her chest as he weeps for the second father he's lost now.

They lay there for longer than they should—he also has so many things to attend to, so busy, this time meant for mourning—but Percy can't bring himself to move. At some point, Vex's fingers have drifted up to play with the fine hairs at the nape of his neck, and he rather feels like a cat being scratched just so, wondering vaguely if he might spontaneously start purring. The thought, sudden and unexpected in the stillness of the moment, is overwhelmingly comical, and a laugh bubbles up out of him.

Vex pulls her head back to quirk an eyebrow at him. "What's so funny?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing. I'm...being stupid."

"Yes, well, I'm used to that." She smiles softly at him. "Did you say goodbye?"

"I did. It was...hard." And he finds that he does not want to talk to her about this, not when he has been so blessed to have had two fathers, each kind and generous and imperfect and wonderful, when she was denied even one who was not craven and heartless.

So instead he tackles the other elephant in the room. "I heard you."

Her breath catches in her throat. He watches her eyes dance between both of his, sees in them the strategizing, questioning whether she can get away with pretending she doesn't know what he's talking about.

She knows she can't. "We don't have to talk about this now."

"Vex'ahlia..."

"We don't. Our sovereign is dead. Keyleth will be crowned soon, if she's even awake yet. Vilya was nearly sacrificed in an immortality ritual not twenty-four hours ago. Bigger things are happ—"

He kisses her, slow but insistent. He then rests their foreheads together. "There are no bigger things. Not to me." He presses a hand flat against her stomach. "I will not presume to tell you what you want. I know that you take great pride in your independence, and if it is important to you, it is important to me, too. But I will say..." Oh, he did not expect this, the closed-throat emotion of it, the hiccuping heart in his chest. "I have been, in my life, so very good at convincing myself that I do not want the things that I want. It is easier, I think, not to want, because if you do not want, you cannot be disappointed.

"But this? I want this. I want you. I want our family, messy and strange and so very, very perfect. Seeing my sister, dying, being lured back to life by the sound of your voice—all of it made me realize that I am a man who wants a great deal, and I will not deny myself that want any longer."

Tears slip quickly and silently along the curve of Vex's nose. "I've been so scared," she breathes, "so, so scared. I didn't know—what if you didn't—what if I didn't—"

He shushes her, pulling her in this time to cry into his shirt. "I'm sorry you've been holding this alone," he whispers into the crown of her head. "I'm scared, too. I think it's safe to say my own relationship to parenthood is...complicated. But Vex..." He gently pulls back to take her face in his hands. "I love you." Her face crumples. "I love you more than I think I know how to say. And loving you is one of the only things in this world that does not scare me."

She kisses him then, wet and hard, and whispers against his lips, "I love you, too."

He holds her close, this miracle woman carrying their miracle child, and focuses on not letting his heart burst right out through his chest. After a few minutes, a thought strikes him. "Wait, did you know about this before you left on the quest for Vilya?"

A prolonged pause. "Um. Yes?"

"The quest so dangerous it got me killed?"

"Mhm?"

"Oh, I am going to be so very, very angry with you later."

"Of course, darling."

Vax rests back against the headboard, Keyleth curled into a tight ball in his lap. He's tucked her head under his chin, and now that she's cried herself out, she breathes slowly, in and out, clearly still exhausted even though her eyes remain stubbornly open.

And he can imagine why; what nightmares must await her in her sleep, what horrors, what sorrow, what fear? To travel the continent in pursuit of their stolen child, only to come home, battered but triumphant, and be told that her father, now, is lost forever—what has Keyleth done to earn such acute agony as this?

(Because it is forever, this loss. Vax sank deep into the pool of blood, let it fill his lungs to bursting until he was in front of her, seething, seeing red, demanding the return of his wife's father. His relationship with the Raven Queen has always been tenuous, nebulous, unsure; he will serve her until his dying day, and likely long after, a fitting payment for the gift of his wife's life, but then, what is the point of being her so-called champion if he cannot do even this small thing, restoring a good man to world?)

Keyleth has one hand gripped tightly into the fabric of his tunic, as if she fears she will blow away in the wind if she lets go. He strokes her hair, tangled and soiled from all their time on the road, and presses soft kisses about her temple. From just beyond their bedroom wall, he hears the familiar babbling sounds that he once feared he would never hear again. He is so endlessly grateful for Nel, who has installed herself in this cottage as Keyleth begins the agonizing process of putting her pieces back together again.

Keyleth must hear Vilya's small coos as well, because she murmurs, "I need her."

Vax doesn't need to ask for clarification. He carefully shuffles Keyleth to the side and slips off of the bed, and for a brief moment, the hand twisted into his tunic tightens. Then she lets go, and he quickly leaves the room, where he finds Nel tidying up, the baby snuggled in a woven sling across her chest. Nel looks just as tired as Vax feels—she'd been summoned as soon as they'd arrived back through the cherry tree, and once she'd confirmed that Vilya would suffer no long-lasting effects of her kidnapping, she'd remained to watch her while Keyleth recovered and Vax stalked off to futilely feud with a goddess. As Vax relieves Nel of her burden, he conveys his thanks for her steadfast dedication to his family. She merely pats his cheek with a sad smile and tells him that she will return as soon as she can take a brief nap of her own.

Vax takes Vilya back into the bedroom, where she curls easily into her mother's arms. He sits beside them, an arm around Keyleth, and when he feels some of the tension in her shoulders ebb away, he says, "I hope you know that I begged. I promised her everything I could to get your father back. I'm sorry it wasn't enough."

Keyleth runs a fingertip along Vilya's nose, across her rounded cheek, up to the point of one ear. "It's not your fault."

He hears what goes unsaid in the monotone of her voice. "It isn't yours either, Keyleth. Tell me that you understand that." She doesn't answer, and Vax wants to take her by the face, force her to meet his eyes and believe it, truly believe that she is not responsible for her father's demise.

"What did she say?" she asks instead, still looking only at their daughter. "When you asked for him back?"

Vax runs a stressed hand through his hair. What did she say, indeed? "She said that this was part of her warning, though I cannot possibly figure out how. She claims that the threads of fate are still being pulled. Kiki, I don't know what it all means. I don't know how to make this better, I don't know how to fix what's been broken."

"I need to see him."

The words are so quiet Vax almost doesn't catch them. He reaches a hand up to curl over his little girl's soft, wispy hair. There is so much suffering in this world; how is a man meant to keep such pain from his daughter? It is like stemming the tides with his bare hands.

He kisses the shell of Keyleth's ear. "We will go together. As a family."

Keyleth nods, her head coming to rest on his shoulder once more. It scares him, her quiet, her stillness. She may have cried herself to exhaustion now, but he knows that the eye of the hurricane has not yet passed over this house, that winds of grief strong enough to pull the cottage apart stone by stone are still howling in the distance. And somewhere, in the midst of such a maelstrom, she is supposed to become a queen, to lead her people into the next chapter of their story. What terrible things we demand of each other, he thinks as he watches tiny eyelids grow heavier and heavier in Keyleth's arms. What terrible, terrible things.

#critcal role #critical role fic #cr fic #vaxleth #vaxleth fic #vaxleth au #vox machina #vox machina fic #vox machina au #tlovm #tlovm fic #my fair lady #go on claim my heart #my fic #ps if you're reading this #today is my birthday

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