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unfinishedslurs · 2 years ago

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bodyswap (steddie)

So, they beat Vecna. Nancy shoots him full of lead, El tears him apart from the inside, and Steve and Robin burn this version of the Creel House down with him in it. It’s over. It’s finally, finally over.

Steve ignores the reopened wounds in his side, racing to get back to Dustin and Eddie before the gates close forever. The ground rumbles again and all three of them stumble, Robin taking his hand and yanking him along when he falters.

“You can pass out when we get topside!” She screams at him, and he tries to give her a thumbs up before he wraps that hand around his bleeding torso.

They get to the trailer park, but Dustin and Eddie aren’t where they’re supposed to be. Steve almost rips Robin’s arm out of her socket when he turns around and runs.

“Dustin,” he bellows. There are dead demobats everywhere, and the mass of them on the ground thickens in a particular direction. He heads that way with a sinking feeling in his gut. “Dustin! We need to fucking move!”

“Steve!” He hears Dustin wail, and all self preservation leaves him as he bolts, landing heavily on his knees at Dustin’s side and immediately checking him over for injuries.

“Are you okay?” He gasps, holding his tearstained face in his hands. “Where are you hurt? Show me.”

Dustin shakes his head, crying harder, and that’s when Steve notices the limp body right in front of him.

Eddie coughs up blood. “Wow, Harrington,” he grins, “nice to see that you care.”

“Shit, shit, shit.” It’s bad. Steve goes into preservation mode, stripping off his jacket and shirt and using them to press down on the many, many bites littering Eddie’s body. He senses Robin and Nancy catch up behind him, and hears Nancy gasp.

“What do you need?” She asks, dropping down on Eddie’s other side.

“Robin and Dustin need to find a new way to get through the portal,” he says, looking over at them. “I can’t carry him and use the rope.”

“Rope’s gone, anyway,” Dustin mutters. “He cut it.”

“You cut the rope?”

Eddie shrugs as much as he can. “Seemed..” he coughs again, red and wet, “…like a good idea…at the time.”

“Stupid,” Dustin corrects angrily. “It was really fucking stupid.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Nancy says frantically. Robin nods, and takes Dustin away swiftly. Steve files Dustin’s limp in the back of his mind for later. “What do I need to do?”

“Help me keep him from bleeding out,” Steve says as he gathers Eddie into his arms. Eddie turns and nuzzles his face into Steve’s chest. It’s weird, but at least he’s alive to do it. “I might need help walking, too.”

“Right.” She examines him worriedly. “On three?”

He heaves Eddie up on the count of three, and Eddie whines, long and pained. “Sorry,” Steve gasps, the wounds on his side tearing. “Sorry.”

“S’kay,” Eddie mumbles, closing his eyes. He doesn’t open them again, and Steve jostles him.

“Hey, no passing out on me, got it? Keep those eyes open for me.”

The last thing he can remember is feeling Eddie’s blood mixing into his, their open wounds pressed together. Then he blacks out.

He wakes up in a hospital bed.

Dustin is beaming at him, teary and happy like Steve’s never seen him before. Not even when he agreed to play one campaign with the scoops troop, and admitted at the end that Dungeons and Dragons wasn’t that bad. Too much math and writing and thinking for him, it made his head hurt, but not, like, awful.

Steve thinks he’d wake up in a million hospital beds if it meant Dustin always smiled like this.

“—Robin’s with Steve, we’ve been taking shifts. Well, the rest of us have. She hasn’t actually left his side. He’s woken up a couple of times, like you, but you both fall right back asleep after,” Dustin’s saying, and Steve blinks, foggy.

“…Steve?”

“Yeah, he collapsed after he carried you out. Went septic, because he didn’t take care of himself again like an idiot and his bites got infected.”

“Wait,” Steve says. “Is there another Steve? Were you hiding another Steve behind my back? Where’s Eddie?”

Dustin stares at him. “You are Eddie.”

“S’not funny, Henderson. I just woke up from a fuckin’ coma, I don’t need this shit right now.”

“Did the bats eat your brains?” He demands. “Shit, do you have brain damage? What’s wrong with you?”

Steve pouts. “That’s not funny, you know I do.” Dustin’s seen him through his fair share of migraines, knows more about what to do and what exactly causes them than Steve, probably. The perks of getting your ass kicked in front of the smartest eighth graders on the planet.

“They gotcha on the good stuff, huh kid?” A man says from the other side of his bed. Steve whips around, only just realizing that this guy is also holding his hand. There’s multiple hand-holdings going on here, which he knows is normal for hospitals but doesn’t know why this random stranger is doing it. Does he know Dustin? Is this the other Steve?

“Who’re you?”

He looks hurt by this, which makes Steve feel like a monster. But his brain won’t work, he’s definitely high on some kind of painkillers, Dustin is being confusing, and he’s tired.

“That’s your Uncle Wayne,” Dustin reminds him.

“I don’t have an uncle,” Steve replies, frowning. His parents are both only children, as far as he’s aware, and they don’t have any friends that would call themselves his uncle. Still, the name sounds familiar. “Doesn’t Eddie have an Uncle Wayne?”

“What the hell are you going on about?” Uncle Wayne asks.

“You’re Eddie,” Dustin insists, confused and somewhat panicked. Now he knows how Steve feels.

“No I’m not.” Steve scowls, sick of whatever game he’s playing to fuck with Steve’s head. “I’m Steve.”

Dustin’s eyes widen, and Steve gets the sinking feeling that something is very, very wrong.

The door slams open.

“Dustin!” Robin hollers, eyes wild. “Something is wrong with Dingus! That’s not my dingus!”

“Robbie!” He says excitedly, and tries to sit up. Which goes poorly for him. Ow.

She looks at him, and a diamonds worth of emotions crosses her face at once. “…Steve?”

“Yes,” he cheers. At least someone knows who he is.

“How did you know?” Dustin demands.

“I’d know that drugged up puppy-dog look anywhere,” Robin replies, eyes still on Steve. “Plus, there’s a guy in Steve’s body trying to tell Nancy what kind of campaign he could make out of this.”

“My body?” Steve asks, horrified, just as that Wayne guy says, “Now hol’ up just one second—“

Robin pulls a compact mirror out of her pocket and approaches the bed with caution.

Wayne is ushered out, still loudly demanding answers for what the hell is going on with his nephew. Steve wishes he had them.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Robin says with a grin. “This is great.”

“Literally how,” Steve deadpans.

“Well maybe not great for you, but I’m about to have the time of my life. Eddie, quick, say something nerdy.”

“What,” Eddie says flatly. It’s weird to see his expressions on Steve’s face. His face shouldn’t look like that, shouldn’t move like that.

“C’mon,” she urges, “I wanna hear Steve’s voice talk about dnd, or your shitty music, or the moral majority.”

“Hey!” Steve objects. “We do talk about the moral majority.”

“Yeah, but we’re always serious about it. I wanna hear Munson give one of his tabletop speeches.”

Eddie looks baffled, which looks so different from the face Steve makes when he’s confused. It’s got the bare bones of it, but the finer details are off, trying to use a face that isn’t his. It’s creepy. Robin must agree, because she shudders a little.

“You, Steve Harrington, talk about the moral majority?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, offended, at the same time Robin says, “Oh, you should hear him. It’s incredible.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Eddie answers, and Steve huffs, throwing his hands up as much as he can when he’s stuck in a hospital bed. Which means he basically just makes a little gesture and hopes it gets the message across.

“I don’t see what’s so shocking about it! A bunch of assholes declared that my kids were in a cult. They were going to hunt you down. Why would I be on their side?”

“I dunno, Stevie,” Eddie says, eyes glinting. “I guess it’s just a shock to me that the straight, rich-boy jock would have something to say about it. What’re they teaching you in those churches?”

He can’t quite stop the grimace that flashes across his face, meeting Robin’s eyes almost on instinct. Eddie’s eyebrows jut up.

“What’d I say?”

“I haven’t been to church in two years, man,” Steve admits, avoiding the other glaring assumption. “Once you have to save the lives of kids from monsters that shouldn’t exist, God doesn’t really seem that great.”

It was for the better, really, that Steve had given up. No amount of praying or bargaining made him forget how Jonathan Byers’s hand felt in his as they ran for their lives. It didn’t stop the monsters from coming back either.

Still, he hadn’t really stopped believing until Robin came out to him. He looked at her, this scared, brave girl who spit in the face of their torturers, the girl who Steve was pretty sure was his best friend, and quietly came to terms with the fact that if she was going to hell, there was never a god to begin with.

Robin had cried when he told her that.

Eddie is staring at him, eyes wide and searching. It keeps tripping him up, how different his own face is when someone else is wearing it.

“You’d think seeing hell would make anyone a believer,” he says, voice wry. “You keep surprising me.”

Steve fidgets, staring down at his legs. “It was just…it was always a lose-lose situation, you know? Either I stop going to church and go to hell, or I do what they want and end up there anyway. I can’t be what they want me to be, so why even try? There’s no point.”

When he looks up again, he meets Robin’s eyes first. She looks achingly fond, smiling at him as she gives his hand a squeeze. He gives a small smile back, and looks at Eddie.

He’s wide-eyed, surprise coloring every inch of his face. Or, well, Steve’s face. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, that’s— that's exactly it.”

“Dude, does Jonathan scare you?”

“What?”

“Your body, like, goes haywire around him. He checked my—your—the injuries I’m currently sporting and I thought I was gonna die.”

Steve’s face heats up. “I’m not scared of Jonathan.”

“It’s ok, Steve, you can tell me the truth,” Eddie says, only a little bit of mockery in his tone. “I’ll protect you from Big Bad Byers.”

He closes his eyes in mortification. “I’m not scared,” he stresses, “of Jonathan Byers.”

“Really? Because I wasn’t joking about thinking I was dying. Your heart goes crazy around…him…” Eddie trails off, eyes widening as he clocks the blush spreading down Steve’s neck.

Fuck Eddie’s pale skin, seriously. Steve’s tan enough that people barely notice, but Eddie seems like he spends a sunny day sitting in his room working on song lyrics or campaign notes. He wants his fucking body back.

Shit, he’s in Eddie’s body, and Eddie just found out he’s queer. He’s a queer man in Eddie’s body. He’s going to think Steve’s some kind of perv, or using his dick, or…or…

“Byers?” Eddie finally says. “Of all the men in the world, Byers is the one you pick?”

Steve’s eyes pop open from where he’d squeezed them shut. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

#bodyswap au #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #featuring steve's lowkey crush on jonathan bc i am never not stonathan truthing #stranger things fanfic

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 3 years ago

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Hey I'm not sure if I'm bothering you but could you do the ilper egos(dark, bim, host and iswm mark) with a werewolf/vampire hybrid reader?

Dark

You’re an interesting creature to him.

Two different beings merged into one. Sounds quite familiar.

Tbh he doesn’t mind what you do or whose blood your feast on. As long as you don’t make a mess and track blood all over the floor.

He also doesn't want you getting fur on his suit or desk whenever you fully transform.

Unfortunately that...happens more than either of you would like to admit (not to mention it’s often encouraged by Wilford).

“[Y/n] I’m not going to ask again, keep off my......oh don’t give me those pathetic “puppy eyes”. You’re no Chica.”

He scolds you every time but does he actually do anything about it??

No.

It might just be the dog-person in Damien who just can’t stay mad at you forever but shhhh

Bim

After today's gameshow, he wondered where the winner and all the “hamburger” meat had gone.

Then he hears his production team screaming backstage and finds you just??? Biting into raw meat?? And only sucking the blood from it??

At first he doesn’t even know it’s you till he sees your ripped clothes and it clicks.

No wonder you seemed a little too eager watching the losers get chucked into the meat grinder.

“Woah....WOAH SOMEONE GET THIS ON CAMERA--or...a-actually don’t. Shoo." He shoves the cameraman away and approaches you.

“Heyyyy [y/n]. I was gonna see if you wanted your prize but...I guess you already found one, haha.” He laughs as you look at him, kinda embarrassed you lost control of yourself.

But he’s chill about it, petting your fur and calling you a “good dog”.

Host

You were something straight of a fictional horror story.

That’s Host’s way of complimenting you, which is confusing but he still hangs out with you so??? He likes you.

He wishes he could fully see what you look like.

Though you let him pet your fur and feel your snout/ears/tail/paws whenever you fully turn.

If his sockets start bleeding from stress, you’ll have to leave the room bc the scent of blood gets overwhelming and you don’t wanna hurt him. It’s something you still don’t have too much control over.

Host knows this too and tries to avoid being too stressed out around you.

Ofc he can narrate to stop you from attacking but he doesn’t wanna do that either.

Space

The ship settled on a planet full of hybrid creatures, specifically ones seen as “myths” back on Earth.

The plot twist? It wasn’t found by accident. It was actually the home planet of the Captain, aka you. You’ve intended to lead your crew here to establish peace and coexistence with humanity.

Of course, that was far from easy with all the time loops and universe-hopping, but you finally made it.

However it’s not obvious to Mark that you were a werewolf-vampire hybrid this entire time (you hid it relatively well except for when you shoved him into ADS and scented the blood he left all over the scanners).

Then you finally take off your helmet to reveal your blood-red eyes, fangs, and wolflike face/ears, breathing the fresh air of your planet with joy.

Then you realize Mark's staring and you expect him to shriek in horror (or at the very least be upset you never told him your true nature).

But he’s like “woah, Cap. You’re a big..scary...k-kinda cute vampire puppy???” He’s a little confused (tho he still acknowledges you as captain, much to your relief).

“Cute” is certainly a foreign term to your species. But you’ll take whatever rare compliments come your way.

#clanask #anonymous #iplier egos x reader #darkiplier x reader #bim trimmer x reader #the host x reader #space mark x reader #iswm x reader #werewolf vampire #monster reader #headcanons #tw blood

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haveyouseenthisskeleton · 3 years ago

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The SO casually mentioning trauma except with the rest of the skeletons,

Hello, hello ! The previous ask is here, with the main 10 !

Horrorfell Sans and Papyrus - It's the first time the boys are visiting a farm. Everything was fine until you got close from the pigs enclosure and, while they are petting the piggies, you explained how you lost two fingers when you were little because a pig you were trying to feed ate your whole hand. Copper and Chief are slowly getting their hands out of the pig that doesn't understand why they stopped petting. He screamed, making them both jump. Yeah, no, they're never getting close of the pigs ever again.

Outertale Sans and Papyrus - You are all admiring the first baby Sun had to keep as a nanny. It's your turn to hold the baby, then you smile. "Ooooh, do you know that when I was a baby, my nanny accidentally dropped me because I was crying too much and I almost die?" There's a terrible silence. Sun gasped in horror and takes the baby back from your hands. Moon never wants to touch a baby ever again.

Dancetale Sans and Papyrus - S/O : Come on, it's not that bad! Rambo : Your knee is heading the wrong way, how could it be even worse??? S/O : Last time, all of my left limbs were doing that! Salsa : HUMAN LIMBS CAN DO THAT MULTIPLE TIMES ??!! DO YOU HAVE A CONCUSSION? WHY WOULD YOU EVEN SAY THAT? The poor boys are traumatised and they both discovered a sudden hate for human bodies and bones.

Dancefell Sans and Papyrus - You're locked in a safari car, while a freaking lion is trying to hunt you. Rumba is screaming, Tango is filming and you're just : "When I was little, circus were far less protected than today. One day I saw a lion jump on a guy right next to him and open his throat like it was paper!" Rumba is now screaming and crying, holding you like a koala, while Tango is encouraging you to say more so his Instagram followers can appreciate the story more. The lion chooses that moment to break a window.

Farmtale Sans and Papyrus - The three of you are baking a cake when you suddenly laugh. "When I was little, I lost a tooth in a cake I was baking. I didn't tell anyone until my little brothe choke with it." They doesn't mind until Sam felt something hard in his mouth and freaked out, Ben freaks out because his brother is freaking out and you crying with laughter because you just put a big chunk of chocolate to make them do that. Sam will still insist to go to the hospital. You are banned from doing cakes now.

Mafiatale Sans and Papyrus - Demon and Creeper are fighting over who will eat the red dragibus, when you picks one and said that one day you put one in your nose and it got stuck here for three months. The two brothers put a hand to their non-existant nose in shock.

Mafiafell Sans and Papyrus - Fangs is playing with his dogs, and they're licking his face. You smiles, it's so cute. "Do you know my grand dad die because of his dog? It licks his face and gives him a bacteria and then he died." Torpedo gasped in horror. He's putting Fangs and his dogs outside. Then you look at his cat and says it's funny because your grand mother died the same way because of the cat. Torpedo is now paranoid and must wash himself everytime a dog or a cat touch him. Congratulations.

Ink - You're waiting in a queue to see Santa Claus. S/O : "Hey, wanna see something cool? Someone in my class did that when I was little". Ink : "What did they do?" You jump on the scene, runs in front of Santa Claus and pulls his beard in front of all the kids. The kids are screaming in shock, but they're not the only one. Ink is crying. "... Santa Claus... is not real?" You destroyed his childhood. What a monster. Security is dragging you out too. You desserved it.

Error - Error's hand is glue to the wall because you wanted to glue a paper, but it was very good glue. You're trying to free him and just : "That's fine, it could be worse. Last time I did that I ripped all my arm skin off." Error's eye sockets goes black then he just screams and panics. Don't touch him, he doesn't want you to touch him. He can stay like that for eternity.

Disbelief Papyrus - You're trying archery today! It was nice until you explained how one of your ancestors were working in a circus and doing the "shoot the apple" thing, and then he shoots right in his co-worker eye with so much precision no one could hung him down. Delta takes your bow. That's enough archery for today. You're going home and he's going to pretend like he didn't hear any of that.

Dustale Sans - You're watching a horror movie, and Dust doesn't like this. In the worst moment, you explain your boyfriend that one day your mirror reflexion did something different that what you were doing and that they promised to kill everyone you love when you grows up. Dune is : leaving. He's going to run in the woods, like, forever. Goodbye.

#horrorfell #outertale #dancetale #dancefell #farmtale #mafiatale #mafiafell #ink sans #error sans #disbelief papyrus #dustale #undertale ask blog #undertale asks #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons

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pedrosbisch · 3 years ago

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More // 4

Benny Miller x F!Reader w Nickname; No Y/N

18+ Minors DNI

Summary: Benny’s fight doesn’t go as expected, and neither does Frankie’s apology

TW: Violence, descriptions of injuries and blood; Angsty!Benny; Fluff

AN: Guess who had to chop her writing in half AGAIN because I always write way too fucking much 🙃

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

The night of the fight came quickly, and Benny is out of his element. He’s too busy looking over his opponents shoulder watching you. Santiago left a seat open and Frankie took the spot right next to you. He’s too close. He’s going to hurt her, I’ll hurt him if he hurts her.

A glove connects to Benny’s face twice, as fast a lightning. His head reels and he swallows bile rising through his throat as he fights back panic trying to find you again. Faces blur in the crowd as his opponent’s foot lands repeated blows against his ribs. He’s about to tap— Until he sees you and Frankie leaving the arena with his hand on your lower back.

Benny sees red. He unfurls himself launching the entirety of body weight into a ballistic punch; Sending his opponent flying across the cage and sprawling unconscious on the floor and ending the match.

Where the fuck is she?

◣─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◢

Frankie leads you out of the arena, the ghost of a touch reaching your lower back. It feels odd to have him touch you again, it’s familiar but it doesn’t send sparks trilling down you spine like it had. He takes you out into an empty hallway, private enough you won’t be interrupted by wandering fans. He finally pauses but doesn’t miss a beat before words begin spilling out.

“Dice, I’m going to make this quick while Benny can’t drag you away. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry that I did that to you. I’m sorry I said that I said everything I did, especially after you told me you loved me. I-I- I didn’t know what the fuck to do. Dice, I’m a fuck up. My life is upside down, and has been long before you came into the picture. I want you to know, this is an explanation, a-and not an excuse because—Fuck. I’m selfish, and I don’t want to lose you after everything we’ve done and been through together.”

Frankie wrings his hat between his hands, fidgeting endlessly as time seems to stand still between the two of you. The apology you had wanted all these months is here; So why aren’t you happy? Sad? Angry? All the emotion you had felt build up seemed to just vanish.

“Thank you for apologizing, but… I can’t promise you thing will go back to how they used to be. I need time to heal. I was in love with you for years, Frankie.”

“I don’t expect you to, I just—Thought things were better now since you’re with Benny?”

“What do you mean?” You feel your face heat. What does he know about you and Benny? He hasn’t even been around.

“He’s like your body guard. Any time I’ve tried to pull you aside and apologize, he’s dragged you away. And don’t even pretend you didn’t see the way that he was looking at us sitting together tonight. ”

Your mind whirls. How times had Benny intercepted Frankie from talking to you? Is is more than you know? He’s been protective, but only because you got hurt…Right?

You spiral further, sinking into every interaction. You think of the way he calls you baby, the small circles he rubs on your back when you’re anxious; He flirts, but he does that with every girl… Doesn’t he?

“Speak of the devil…”

You look over your shoulder and Benny is taking long strides toward you, limping with a black swollen eye socket and a split lip dribbling down his chin. Dark welted patches of reds and purples are blossoming across his body, and he looks pissed.

When he reaches you he wraps a sweat glossed arm around your waist and his hand cups the curve of your body. He digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your hips; Anchoring himself to you, holding on any way he can like your about to be ripped away.

“Hey baby. You ready to go? I’m starving, what are you feeling tonight? Pizza? Tacos? Chinese?”

Benny’s practically bouncing in place, it’s not uncommon after a fight— but something is off. You place your hand over his; Lacing your fingers into his own and tracing small circles onto his skin with your thumb like he’s done for you so many times before. Ben leans into your back, and you feel his heaving breaths begin to slow. I’ve got you.

“We were supposed to go to the bar tonight, remember? Unless you’d rather go home?” Benny’s eyes are zip between your face and Frankie’s.

“Yeah, yeah. I -I uh just forgot. Adrenaline rush. Just want to get out of here and get something to eat.” He throws Frankie a side eye but this time, Frankie doesn’t walk away or back down. Fish just adjusts his hat in uncomfortable silence, as Will and Santiago catch up.

◣─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◢

In the locker room, Santi and Will help lower Benny onto the bench and congratulate him on his win.

“How the fuck did you manage to knock out that colossal fucker with one hit? You were getting your ass kicked dude!” Santiago dramatically tries to reenact the final blow, but apparently fails when Will’s eyes roll back into his head.

“Shit I really don’t know. Luck I guess.” Benny hisses as he takes an ice pack and presses it against a particularly nasty bruise on his right rib.

The guys continue to bullshit in the background while you sit across from Benny with your medkit, preparing to clean him up. Watching that fight had been painful, you’d almost been thankful Frankie had pulled you away.

“I’m sorry I missed that last hit, it really sounded like a doozy.”

“A doozy? What are you, a grandma?” Benny smiles wide and unwraps his hands of the gauze.

“Shut up Ben! The swelling around your eye and the rest of the bruises should be gone in a few days as long as we keep them iced; But I’ll have to keep an eye on that lip. I don’t think you need stitches, but I want to make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

Your eyes rove down to where the gash has split his lower lip. You dab and wipe carefully with a cloth removing the blood and drool and grime that had covered his chin. You let your touch linger, cradling his face in your hands and enjoying the rough stubble that coats his jaw. Ben exhales and closes his eyes as you gently run your thumb over the sharp line of his jaw. Without looking extends his hands out smoothing over your side, down and hooking his fingers through the loops of your jeans.

Emboldened, you move yourself closer until your sitting between his legs to apply a thin layer of balm on his lip—Swiping your index over the plump flesh. Your throat goes dry thinking how easy it would be to lean forward and feel how soft they are; To taste him; To kiss him. You blink and meet his soft gaze, holding for far too long before you finally let him go.

“Thank you, baby. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He kisses your forehead and helps you up from the bench. He offers you an arm, and you take it walking out from the arena to his truck. Will, Santi and Frankie follow after as they spew tactics at Benny; How NOT to get beat out like that again.

“You were too distracted man, that kind of thing can get you hurt—or worse in the ring.” Will gave Benny a look that could kill, now that the celebrations over big brother mode has kicked in;

“I know what I’m doing! I’m fine aren’t I? I’ll spend extra time at the gym, just relax.” Benny rolls his eyes.

Whatever silent fight was happening between the brothers seemed personal; About more than just the fight. Too distracted; And what was it that Frankie had said earlier? “Don’t pretend you didn’t see the way he looked at us sitting together tonight.”

You and Benny need to sit and talk about whatever the hell is happening between the two of you; But tonight, you’re going to have fun.

Part 5 ->

Taglist: @ohnopoe @leannawithacapitala @itspdameronthings

#tf fanfic #fanfic #benny miller #benny miller x female reader #benny miller x reader #benny miller x you #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #benny miller x f!reader #ben miller x you #ben miller x reader

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malebodysuittf · 4 years ago

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Thankful

I sniffed the air with a drool, smelling that delicious roast turkey that my dad was cooking up. It was a family recipe that we had used every Thanksgiving. Dad had never even tried to deviate from it since my mom passed when I was not even a year old. My dad told me it was hers, and cooking the turkey her way made it feel like she was back home for the Holidays.

Thanksgiving has been a big family occasion ever since, though the “family” was just the two of us. My dad valued that family time more than anything. After what happened with mom, he was absolutely devastated for the longest time. But he worked hard to make his way up through the ranks, and told me every single day to be grateful for what I had so I could have a good future myself.

“Ritchie! The turkey is ready! Come eat dinner with your old man.”

I opened my drawer and pulled out a jar filled with a translucent, red liquid along with a syringe. “Coming, dad!” I pondered if this was really the right thing to do. With a sigh, I put the serum back. No, he had done a wonderful job of being a role model parent. I had bought this serum from the shady kid at school before we graduated, and he told me it could turn the victim into a suit by emptying them out. A wearable suit. My dad didn’t deserve that. He had worked hard and chose not to abandon me when he could have.

I ran downstairs and saw the delicious Thanksgiving feast before me. Roast turkey, mashed potatoes with gravy, a homemade pumpkin pie, and a beautiful salad. I immediately sat down and started eating as my dad watched with a grin. ”Oh come on, no thank you? On Thanksgiving?” He said jokingly.

“Thanks, dad. And...I want you to know I’m thankful for everything. I know I’m going off to college soon, so...I mean, you’ve worked so hard to....to provide everything for me and get me where I am, I wanna be thankful.”

Dad smiled, almost looking like he was on the brink of tears. “Let’s just eat, alright?” He started to dig in with me as we had a delicious Thanksgiving feast together.

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

A few hours after dinner, and I rested in my, eyeing the drawer with the bodysuit serum. Perhaps I could use it on someone else, someone who might deserve it.

Knock knock

Startled by the unusual late night disturbance, I opened the door to see Dad standing there, shirtless. Looked like he was getting ready to go to bed.

“Hey, Ritchie, you mind if I come in?’ He gave me the most wholesome smile, a reminder of the close bond we had.

“Yeah, sure, what’s up?”

He walked in and plopped himself onto my bed, hunched over with his legs spread out as he rubbed his hands together.

“Hey buddy, you’re going to college soon, and...I know, I know, maybe it’s not a big deal for you or whatever. I mean, you took this gap year, and you’re probably tired of your old man by now.” His body tensed up as he chuckled before giving a long sigh. ‘I just wanna say I’m really proud of you, and I’m thankful for you. I know sometimes...I know you told me that sometimes you feel guilty, because I had to raise you as a single parent...but I don’t regret it at all.”

My eyes teared up as I head his words. It was true, it felt awful. He never gave me up for adoption, he was never selfish, he had been the role model parent for me. Accepted me the way I was. Even with my homophobic grandparents, my father had told me he didn’t care, because I was his son. He had supported me every step of the way. He never went out looking for another woman, truly in love with my mother, and wanting to give me 100% of his attention.

“Dad...I have to be honest. I don’t want to go to college. It just...it doesn’t seem right to me. But-”

“You’re an adult, Ritchie. You get to make your own decisions. If that’s how you feel, go that route. Don’t let your old man try to live your life for you. I worked hard so you could have the life you want, not for you to be unhappy. I’ll support you, no matter what choice you make.”

At a loss for words, I jumped out of bed and hugged Dad and felt his arms wrap around me.

“Dad, I really meant what I said earlier. I couldn’t have asked for a better father.”

“I love you, son. No matter what, don’t ever forget that.”

As I hugged him, the option tugged at my conscience. in his compassion and fatherly affection, the guilt ripped me apart. I wanted it more than ever.

I got up from him and turned to the drawer. As he got up to leave the room, I said, “Wait, uh...I’ve um...got something for you.”

“Yeah? What is it, champ?”

I opened the drawer and slipped the syringe through the top of the jar, watching the liquid seep into the it.

“Just...uh...hold on a sec, alright?”

He gave a deep chuckle. “Yep, I’m waitin’.”

“I’m really sorry, Dad.”

I looked behind me and saw his concerned face. He was loving and supporting, and wanted to comfort me. “I already told you Ritchie, I’m proud of you. I don’t want you to feel gui-”

I swiftly turned around and jabbed Dad in the neck with the syringe, injecting him as he was startled. He pulled my hand away and pushed me back.

“Ritchie, w-what the hell was that?” His large, meaty hand patted his neck as he gave me a confused look.

“A...a bodysuit serum. I’m really sorry, Dad.”

“What the hell is that? What did you do? Is this some kind of prank?”

“N-no...I don’t....I don’t know...” I felt great guilt as Dad suddenly started groan and cup his face in his hands.

“Oh...fuck...i-it burns! WHAT DID YOU DO?” He tried to leave the room, but I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him back in, covering his mouth as he yelped. He was, of course, much stronger and bigger than me, but even in this moment of peril, he wasn’t willing to hurt his son. He pushed me back slightly as he fell back and hit the wall, slumping as his head hung down, struggling to keep it up.

“Fuck...Ritchie, please, call an ambulance! W-what are you doing?”

“It’s gonna turn you into a suit. I’m gonna wear your skin, Dad.”

His face was a mixture of confusion and horror. “THIS ISN’T FUNNY, RITCHIE!”

“I already told you, I’m really sorry Dad...but I’m gonna have your body. I’m gonna wear that skin of yours!” I menacingly approached him, still unsure if this was what I wanted to do.

“W-What do you mean? Did you...drug me?” The pain appeared to be ramping up as Dad’s face contorted and he wiggled against the wall, yelping every now and then while he clutched his stomach.

“I told you I didn’t want to go to college. I’m really sorry to say this...but I’m going to go straight to work, Dad. I want to wear your skin. I want to live your life, talk to your friends, do your job...please don’t make this harder than it has to be. It’s just because you’re the man I want to be.”

Dad started to cough as he looked slightly paler than before, wrestling out what words he could. “W-what are you going to do?” He clenched his jaws as he built up the courage the ask. “You’re creeping me out Ritchie! W-what do you mean wear my skin? You’re not a monster!” He stumbled over his words in terror, in denial of his fate.

“Nothing like that! I just know that I can’t wait to slide into you, slipping into your empty, lifeless skin, stretching every wrinkle of yours, and to talk to everyone...and not a single person will know. I really am sorry.”

Looking disturbed by his own son’s words, Dad tried again for the door. This time, I managed to grab him and put him in a chokehold. I could feel him getting softer as he was turned into a suit, and he was a lot weaker because of it. He started to panic with shallow breaths as I watched his bare feet scrape against my bedroom carpet, desperately trying to get out of my grasp. I could feel him almost ready.

I stood up with him still in a chokehold and moved to drag him over to the bathroom. I kicked open the door and turned on the light, I threw Dad forward as he hit the bathtub.

“I told you, I’m thankful for you, Dad. You’ve given me so much, and you’re about to give me everything.”

I grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed his head into the tub as the goo started to eject from his mouth. My very unfortunate father flailed and attempted to back up from the tub, gaining momentary freedom. “R-RITCHIE! STO-MMMMPH!!!”

I quickly slammed his face back towards the tub when I noticed him desperately clenching his mouth to keep the goo inside, trying to retain what little was left of him. I reached my left arm over his face and the right under his chin. I used both of my hands to clip onto his lips; I knew Dad wouldn’t bite me, he was too good of a father. With my left arm and held his upper face steady as I pulled his mouth open with my right hand. He whimpered as he looked at me, as if one final plea to talk. Slowly, but surely, his mouth started to open with a cry as he weakened. Prying his mouth open, Dad shuddered and yelped as the goo plopped out of his mouth. Clearly unable to fight for any longer, I released the pressure and grabbed him by the hair with my left hand. I could feel his head almost...folding in on itself, as it emptied. I tugged his head back into the tub until Dad was mostly deflated and empty. His hands let go of the tub and fell to the ground in a folded pile, while his legs had completely folded at the knees, while his face drooped into the bathtub. I felt a severe guilt. Dad, the man who had given me everything, who had been supportive of me, who had been the best father he possibly could’ve been, was gone. All that was left was this bodysuit of him.

I grabbed his hand, and noticed there was some goo left in him. I picked the arm of the suit up from the fingers and squeezed out the remaining goo as it fell right out from his mouth, until he was completely empty. Turning on the bathtub, the goo sunk into the drain.

I grabbed the bodysuit by the scalp and held it up, and his shorts and underwear slipped off. I could just barely hold the suit so Dad’s feet wouldn’t touch the ground; he was a man of incredible stature. Every crevice of his folded over itself, while the mouth and eye sockets dragged downwards, creating an O-face with bags. Even though I knew it was me who did it, the macabre visual of my own father’s lifeless skin could only seek to unsettle me. I intended to remedy that.

Dropping the bodysuit to the floor, it fell as a haphazard pile of skin and hair with a slap. I took off my own clothes and tossed them onto the floor. I hooked my fingers onto Dad’s lips and started to stretch his mouth as wide as I could. I dipped my toes in, forcing one foot through Dad’s body, then the other, until both fit snugly into his feet. I wiggled my new toes, significantly thicker and with little tufts of hair on each one. I tugged harder at his mouth as I slipped Dad’s skin on, feeling his powerful legs overtake my own. I flexed my trunk thighs in awe, enjoying seeing his beautiful daddy legs move to my command. I had to stretch the suit to it’s limit to slip my hard cock into Dad’s fuckstick skin. Christ, the thing was massive. I shimmied into his ass, feeling it perk up. Dad was always such a humble guy, and of course, I hadn’t got to see him naked until now. He truly had an amazing body, it almost made me sad to imagine all that he missed out on in his loyalty to Mom. I gazed at myself in the mirror, satiated by the thought of my supportive and caring father, being turned into a sexual object by his son. The empty arms swung from my hip as I checked myself out, while the skin of his torso and head clumped around my waist. I continued to pull at Dad’s mouth, slipping my arms into each arm of the suit. His hands were strong and his fingers thing, veins running down the arm. A sign of masculinity and impressive musculature. Finally, I grabbed the upper lip from behind my head and, using my newfound strength, pulled the upper lip over my head as Dad’s face stretched to ludicrous proportions while I tried to stuff my own head into his, almost threatening to tear.

I blinked a few times, and looked in the mirror. I was the spitting image of Dad, quite literally. Humble, supportive, friendly, caring Dad. Perhaps I need to start referring to myself by name. Alan. I was Alan, single father of Ritchie. I could only give myself a devious smirk in the mirror. As I started to jerk off this new fuckstick of mine. It was insanely sensitive, from nearly two decades of loyalty and family dedication. I rubbed it intensely as I recalled the events of the night. I did feel awful about what I had done, but there was such a dark appeal to it. I had decided on not turning Dad into a skinsuit...but when he came in, and sat there on that bed, the impulse was too much. Recalling the nights events of pulling on Dad’s skin, and getting to see myself in control of his body...I ejaculated onto the mirror with a loud moan, rolling my neck as I felt the wave of pleasure overtake my body momentarily. The seed was thick, and I was able to roll it off the mirror and eat it up. I stretched a bit to fully situate myself in my new skin and picked up the underwear that I had been wearing, ready to slip it on and go to bed. A thought passed my mind as I stared in the mirror, ready to be just as good of a man that Alan had always been.

Once again, Dad endured so many trials, to give me everything. Quite literally this time.

And I was finally, truly, thankful.

#bodysuit #male bodysuit #skinsuit #dad #thanksgiving #male tf #injection #betrayal #male transformation #really long story!#horror

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sweettodo · 4 years ago

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I need longer than 7 minutes ⟿ Eren Jaeger x femreader [pt . 1]

Includes : swearing, making out, alcohol, lime, consumption, insinuation of marijuana [small reference].

Word count : 3,1k

••

This’ll be a few parts, this is my lil re-creation. I tried to make it original, but I give creds to the person who originally wrote 7 minutes, she surly will be with us forever; I’ll never forget that story :D

••

You run home from your last lecture in the English building; bag swinging and hitting your back while you sprinted across campus.

You didn’t expect to be held back twenty minutes after class; all because you got a B- on group work, your incompetent ‘buddies’ who had to help- didn’t. You did it all, in a week. Thankfully your professor had kept it somewhat short with you; letting you know you weren’t going to have to redo it.

That was besides the point though; you needed to get to the fraternity house, now. You had promised Jean and Connie you would help clean the house before people arrived. As you near the house, you pant, throat dry and your chest burns from running, your leggings made you sweat like a madman.

Running up the porch and fumbling with the doorknob, you swing open the door and see Connie, frantically grabbing cups from shelves and coffee tables, throwing them in a giant black bag and he begins shouting when you’re tossing your bag on the couch and tying your hair up, “What the fuck y/n!” He whines, “you know I don’t clean for shit!” He hollers, you snag the bag from him and he smiles childishly and plops onto the couch. Little shit. You pick up where he left off, dragging garbage by the arm into the bag.

“Maybe if you knew how to clean-” you start, Jean comes down the stairs, only in a towel, you roll your eyes, looking back at Connie, “maybe if you two got off your dead asses, you wouldn’t need me to clean for you.” You growl, steam practically flying from your ears, looking back at Jean, with that silly smile on his stupid face.

“You live here too.” Jean teasingly cackles, you huff and charge towards him, shoving a finger in his face. He looks down at you with a smug smile on his face.

“Used to- it’s not my fault I had no idea college relationships don’t work out.” He sticks his tongue out at you and ruffles your hair, stepping back and strutting away in his low hung towel.

‘I don’t get paid enough for this.’ You mumbled under your breath.

He turns a head before walking towards the staircase, “pshh, you used to be over here every day with Connie! doing whatever toxic couples do. And look at you, still here for him.” He teases, Connie laughs, throwing his head back and standing up, walking towards the kitchen.

“That’s because she still loves me.” He sneers, you drop the bag on the floor and head towards your bag, swinging it over your shoulder. The boys start towards you, begging for you to stay, “I didn’t mean it! Please help.” Connie begs, you comply and place your bag down once more.

“Yeah let me get dressed and I’ll help! Don’t leave us! Please.” Jean implores, quickly running up the stairs, followed by hearing a door shut. You continue cleaning up the downstairs rooms, cleaning what needed to be disenfected so on so forth. Jean did in fact help you, while Connie prepared the bar, and drank half of it while he was at it.

Finally stepping in front of the door, taking a gander at the clean and organized house, surfaces cleaned and dusted, the garbage needed to be emptied a total of twelve times by the time you were done.

You though- you were proud at the work you’ve done, disappointed at the fact you knew it would only stay like this for not even two hours, knowing this house would be full of kids like every weekend, “let me go back and get ready, I’ll be back in a little.” Before they get a chance to say anything, your ass is out the door and walking down the sidewalk to the neighboring dorms, the sun slowly disappearing, the skin turning a milky pastel pink and orange. Students walked, groups of people skateboarding, while most conversed amongst each other. You scurried into the dormitories where you resided and headed for the elevator, pressing it a few times before quickly opening, you step in and slam your two fingers on the floor of your room.

Finally reaching your floor, your feet quickly move down the hall, unlocking your door and slipping in, Historia sits in her desk chair, doing work, “hey Historia, wanna tag along?” You’re throwing your shirt off your head followed by your leggings, you two had changed in front of each other so many times, neither payed any mind.

“No, I’m behind on an essay, I’ll come next weekend I promise.” She pleads, you smile and wave your hand in the air dismissively while standing there half naked.

“Please! You know it doesn’t hurt my feelings, I just don’t want you crammed in here all the time by yourself, it’s unhealthy.” Hands deep in your drawers, you’re looking for a dress, she lets out a sigh of relief and drops her pen on her textbook, standing and walking towards me, opening another drawer.

“I know what dress you gotta wear!” She sings, you follow her hands, fingers strolling down the neatly folded clothes within her clothes drawer. She rips out a black bodycon dress which wasn’t longer than mid knee, with a nice dip in the v-line.

Graciously taking it from her hands, a small gasp and smile planted on your mouth as you slip it over your feet and thighs, shimmying your arms into the strings. Historia had quite a delectable taste of fashion, she had worn and worked every style she’s come across, “you look hot.” She places a love tap on your ass and you stick your tongue out, taking a good look at yourself in the mirror, turning around to look at your body.

Releasing your hair from the hair tie, you shake your hair out and brush it. Being cautious you’d run late again, Historia is picking out a perfume and matching lotion, spritzing you and you take the lotion out of her hands, squeezing the sweet flower smell into your legs and arms, “thanks roomie, please, reconsider; come with me.” You plead one last time, she shoves me playfully and points to her textbook.

“Next weekend, go. Don’t make Connie mad by being late.” You groan and slipping your feet into black platforms.

“You’ll regret saying that, I don’t like Connie.” You shut the door behind you. Walking back towards that elevator.

The sky was pretty much dark at this point, the party was twenty minutes from starting, and you had just walked through the front door as Connie was swinging it open, letting people know they could come in, a few boys sat on the couch. Jean could be seen pouring drinks for himself and probably his friends. “I knew I heard y/n!!” Jean cheers, jogging over to me and scanning his eyes up and down my figure, “looking- uh, sexy.” He coughs, shaking his head and the little bit of pink brushes his cheeks, handing me one of his drinks.

Marco leaps over the couch and jumps towards Jean, leisurely throwing an arm over his shoulder, “maybe you’ll finally get a piece tonight,” he nudges, you smack Marco upside the head and he mutters swears under his breath, pulling off of his friend, Jean rolls his eyes and takes a gulp of his drink, cocking an eyebrow.

“Who says I haven’t hit already.” Before the boys can even react, your knee meets his groin, kicking him, he screeches and falls to his knees, the room stays silent for the most part besides laughing, “alright! I haven’t hit it yet- Jesus y/n!” He hissed, rolling back onto his feet and practically limping out of the room. I turn around to see if the others got the warning, but instead see two boys standing at the front door, both staring at me with wide eyes and interested looks.

Both were tall; one blonde haired which covered his forehead, keen blue eyes, the other wore baggy sweats, a black short sleeve shirt, his hair was messily pulled back. You stand there like a ditz, kinda humiliated.

“Here- Eren, Armin.” Jean is coming from behind you, handing these men drinks, patting Eren’s shoulder all ‘buddy - buddy’ as they walk deeper into the house, you shake off the intense vibe you felt from the two and drink more of the flavored vodka. Your ears suddenly perk up like a dog when you hear Jean’s loud mouth from the kitchen, “oh that’s y/n, isn’t she just a gem? my nuts still hurt.” He laughs, the slight hint of sarcasm in his remark, you swing around and walk into the kitchen, interjecting yourself in their conversation; the three chat it up, Jean’s eyes land on yours and smiles like a brat.

You poke Jean in the side and smile at whichever Armin and Eren were, “Isn’t Kirsten so peachy, this is why I love him.” You giggle, the boys in front of you laugh; both absolutely stunning bright smiles, you could get used to their faces around here. You also wondered where they came from.

“Oh, to be Jean’s nuts right now.” The dark haired one jokes, arising laughter amongst the three boys. Your eyes practically fall out of their sockets, an immediate halt of poking Jean’s side, the little ball stood out, you were absolutely thrown off any train of thought you had. People start filling the kitchen, you were so frozen in feelings you looked so ridiculous, shaking it off with a little smile, you needed to flirt back, he started it.

“And don’t I wish I was that tongue piercing.” It was now their turn to be frozen in shock, the blonde one turning his head to look at the other, a little ‘Eren’ could be heard from his lips; ��so that’s his name, he kinda looks like an Eren.’

The loud chatter and booming music has overtaken the house, it was getting harder and harder to hear a single conversation as more and more people filled the house.

Jean wraps an arm around me, “I love it when she’s bold, she only gets worse the more she drinks, be careful.” Jean gives me a tight side hug and you down the rest of the liquid in the cup, I had stunned Eren into silence, Armin broke that silence with a small laugh. What Jean said was true, I had a small track record of flirtatious behavior when I had enough liquid courage.

Eren smiles at you, “so intense, let’s get them a room already.” Your eyes peel off Eren’s, Sasha stood there with a bottle in her hand, a huge smile on her face, “it’s like a staring contest over here, what’s happening guys?!” She hollers over the music, poking my boob a few times, you swat her finger off your tit and she giggles, hiccuping, she was much more intoxicated than yourself.

“I was just getting more to drink, gimme gimme’” you snatch the bottle out of your friends hand and pop open the cap, “I hope to see you all later, I plan on us all playing a little spin the bottle or something.” You swallow, Armin tilts his head and looks at you.

“Isn’t that for high schoolers?” He asks, a smile on his face, you lean in close, your head right between both Eren’s and Armin’s ears, they subconsciously lean in to hear what I have to say.

“With a twist.” You hum, pulling away and following Sasha towards the basement stairs, personal tequila bottle in tow and ready to drink.

An hour later you’re faltering towards the couches and sliding down onto your wobbly knees, Connie and Jean rounding up the people we are closest too in the basement, dizzy and laughing at practically every little thing in sight, Sasha and Mikasa sat to your left and right, equally or less drunk as yourself.

Our friend group sits on the floor in a giant circle and you stand, “okay my friends, I figured we could do a little something different this weekend.” You announce, the room falling somewhat quiet as they listen to you, “we’re gonna play spin the bottle, but instead of just regular old spin the bottle, if one spins and it lands on the other, they can head into the closet for seven minutes, but when your turn comes again, or that person that you went into the closet with previously, you go into the bedroom for a timed thirty minutes. No backing out.” You didn’t even catch Eren making himself comfortable next to Jean and Marco, Armin sitting on the couch behind Connie also planning on participating.

Eren had noticed you though, standing there with that half empty bottle and your tight dress, your messy makeup which he found beyond sexy. He couldn’t stop thinking about how you told him you wished he was his piercing, no girl had ever been so outgoing and bold. Although he was slightly stoned, and definitely drunk, he couldn’t rip his eyes off you; he sat on the ground intrigued, “I’ll do the first spin.” Sasha gushes, grabbing the empty beer bottle and giving it a strong spin.

It spins and spins, you sat pretty on your knees and wait for it to land on someone; an eternity later it’s pointing between Mikasa and Jean. He was jumping onto his feet in an instant, you knew Jean so well that it was impossible for him to act cool, he was freaking the fuck out. Mikasa stands and pushes Jean towards the closet, he stumbles, drunkenly tripping over his feet and we all laugh at him, they go in and I set a timer, starting it immediately.

We all talk and laugh, Connie and Marco had their ears pressed against the door like perverts, “hey pervs! Quit it you two!” Sasha shouts, they leap away from the door and soon enough the ringing plays to signify the end of the long 7 minutes, you stand and knock on the door, Jean comes out first, dizzy and face flustered, totally beyond repair. Then Mikasa following behind him, perfectly fine but with a domineering smirk plastered on her face. We cheer and Jean plops down on the ground, the boys patting and laughing, congratulating him.

I go, spinning the bottle and anticipating the stop, when it finally comes to a stop, my eyes follow the top of the bottle stopped right between the legs of Connie and Eren, seeing both staring at me, ‘ooh’s’ and laughing fill up the room, there was no way I was going into that room with Connie. “Rock paper scissors!” Jean shouts, I slap my hands over my face in embarrassment, my luck I’d be stuck with Connie who would probably just start a fight with me.

You peek your eye through your fingers and see the two boys play it out to see who would get to go into the closet with me.

Connie one- Eren two.

Your hands drop into your lap, feeling lightweight, almost like you were floating, a mixture of both anxiety and excitement flickering in your stomach, he was so intimidating and you felt tiny in front of him- in all honesty, flirting was one thing. You stand up hesitantly and walk towards the closet, his body blocking you from being able to see your friends one last time. He shuts the door and wastes no time looping his arm around my waist, pulling me into his rock hard chest, looking up at him and begin to gnaw on your bottom lip as he cops a feel of your ass; his strong hand groping your ass, hand rubbing and squeezing, “eager are we?” You tease, he hums and continues.

You were spiraling under his strength. He walks both of you backwards until your back is hitting the wall, dipping his head down to your ear, “what happened to the tough guy act?” He purrs, you shiver, his hand moving from your ass and down your thigh slowly, “you wanna kiss me?” He asks quietly, forehead pressed against yours, you respond with a little nod, his lips instantly meeting yours, your eyes shut and it only becomes more messy as seconds pass, his hand that was once on your thigh was now separating them, sliding his thigh in place between your legs; pinning you. While his thigh sat between yours, you could feel the growing erection poking your leg; which he paid no mind, this was about you. His left hand behind your neck, thumb caressing back and fourth on your jawline softly whilst fixing his right hand back on your ass, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

His body was warm, nose drinking up his vanilla scent, he tasted good, vodka completely soaked your tastebuds, the faint aroma of weed could be tasted in your nostrils from his clothes. Your hands loosely around his waist feeling up his back muscles only slightly.

The metal bud on his tongue keeping you enticed, colliding with your own tongue, it was like a little magic ball that could instantly have you on your knees; sparking these new and mysterious sparks within your body which you wanted more of. It was fun to play with.

He slowly pulls away, a string of saliva dragging from his lips to yours, he licked his lips, you kept your eyes on that piercing like an owner holding his pets treats in his hand, “I need more than seven minutes.” He grunts, your swollen lips begging for his again.

You were going feral, the tips of your fingers teasingly touching the hem of his sweatpants, feeling his boxers underneath, “you’re a good kisser Eren, wonder what else you’re good at, hm?” You whisper in his ear, he was tense, body still latches onto yours so you could feel the flexing of his muscles.

“I would tear yo-” our heads snap to the side, the knocking on the closet door, that was seven? Already? He pulls off of you, immediately feeling cold, your hand coming to your mouth so you can wipe it and somewhat look composed. Like nothing happened, he’s swinging the door open and cockily walking out, you walked out beside him, the girls overwhelmed with cheery grins and jaws hitting the floor, the boys ‘oohing’.

“Was it good?” Mikasa questions, tugging at your arm so you could sit in your spot, you look at her with devilish eyes.

“I’m taking that as a yes, he looks high and mighty don’t he?” Sasha chuckles, you glance at Eren who is looking at you with low, seductive eyes. You gulp and explode, looking at the floor and feeling like all eyes were on you.

“Next person!” Jean shouts. We all prepare for ourselves for the next round.

Fifteen minutes later, after Marco and Sasha had completely demolished each other’s necks in the closet, plus Connie and a random girl spending an odd eleven minutes in the closet after we all pounded on the door to get them out; God knows what they did in that closet. You look for who’s turn it was next; it was finally Eren’s turn to spin.

You were rather... irritated; he was gonna get to please some girl with his mouth the same way I was so blessed to have bestowed upon me. You drink from the bottle, drowning your new attitude. Now everyone is shock, leaping to their feet and jumping around like teenagers, you look around and Eren is walking towards your sitting body, your messy and drunken eyes looking up at him confused, “looks like we get our thirty minutes.” He smirks, your eyes bulge and you quickly stand to your feet, what luck!

Walking down the small hall of the basement, your back only barely touching his front side as he’s pushing himself through the doorframe, you push the door shut with your foot and pick up right where you left off.

“I’ll need more than thirty minutes.” You stand in shock at him ripping his shirt off his head. His finger touching your chin before being able to stare at his body, “get on your back princess.” He starts, gently pushing your back onto the bed.

“I need to taste you, please.”

#eren yeager #7 minutes eren #eren jaeger #attack on titan #aot x reader #eren aot #lime

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ecrivant · 4 years ago

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on intimacy pt. 1 | levi ackerman

(levi ackerman x reader)

as the trauma of soldierhood begins to weigh on you, you turn to levi for comfort. a quiet exploration of damage and the intimacy shared by two. read pt. 2 here.

a.n. – stop me if you’ve heard this one before: a fanfic where the reader has a tender encounter with levi in his office. i think i’m on the brink of discovering a writing trope no one has ever used before! don’t worry, we explore the incertitude and conflation of platonic and romantic intimacy, i swear i’m different, and i swear this is a character study and not just wish fulfilment.

touch is the reader’s love language.

word count: 1.9k

Ferric miasma hangs in the air, low to the earth, a gauzy tulle of dawn fog. Beneath it, terra inked with sanguine dew. You stand above your parents’ mangled corpses, still. Blood roars in your ears, your face pulsates, hyperaware. You hear your eyes dart between your mother’s slack jaw, ripped from the cheek, and your father’s deranged expression, one eye hanging from the socket by a tendinous cord. Freckled complexions washed in red. Lifeless amputees, limbless, silent, barely even there.

An immense umbra engulfs you; you have no feeling as you’re lifted into the air, ascending towards an obscure ether, pulled away from the statuesque corpses that lie beneath, overlooking a perverted vignette, figures composed in beguiling agony, a foreground washed in vermilion. A feverish vise clutches your unmoving form, and soured iron permeates your nostrils as teeth crush your skull—you hear the sickening crunch of bone, the pulping of your brain as it seeps between fractures, but you feel nothing at all.

You woke with a heave in the dark of the barracks, unclenching your teeth and forcing your jaw apart. You searched in the dark until eyes find the dawn light. Everything was still; no one had stirred at your outburst. Why dream of them now? Your index and middle fingers wrapped around your wrist, feeling rapid palpitations, matched with an inbound throbbing behind your eyes. You focused on a gouge in the wall opposite and listened to the steady breathing of your teammates, slowing your pulse, grounding yourself.

An ambient hum hung in the air: the world’s low, ceaseless murmur. In the white noise, you heard remnants of a familiar melody—something quiet your mother used to sing to you, something formless and only heard in that vague void between wakefulness and sleep. Knowing it wasn’t there yet still listening intently, you grasped onto the wispy tones, and found yourself lost in nothing, and allowed yourself to fall into a dreamless sleep. Your mind produced no images, yet you sensed an incoming danger that left you restless.

You came to with Mikasa gently shaking your shoulder. Her expectant gaze hung above you.

“Training starts in ten minutes.” Said with gentle urgency.

You were inexplicably struck still, as if the thought of getting out of bed was paralyzing. You sat up but didn’t move further.

“Don’t wait up.”

You felt a hand in yours as Mikasa kneeled, quietly examining you. Her concerned eyes would be too much; you kept your gaze in your lap. She ran her thumb over your hand, as if to ask if you were okay. No response, and her hand slipped out of yours. She drifted towards the door.

“I’ll tell Captain Levi.”

—

A lifeless automaton, you eventually found yourself on the field just as everyone began warming up, feeling Levi’s eyes on your face as you wordlessly slipped into the drill.

“I expect punctuality at all times, not just when you feel like it.” Like a knife.

Steel eyes, annoyed. Concerned. You let the reprimand linger as dull shame settled in your chest.

“Yes, sir.” You apologized with your gaze.

—

Your tailbone struck the ground hard, birthing a shockwave that emanated through your spine. You made no moves to get up. Your respiration had ceased, and you fought against your sternum for breath. Hands gripped at loose soil, desperate for tangibility.

Eren began to gloat but cut himself off when you didn’t respond to his outreached hand.

“Hey, what’s with you?” He kneeled as he spoke, leveling himself with your gaze.

You swallowed hard, tasting tears. Panicked. The thought of death lorded over you, taunting, ready to crush you underfoot.

“I—I don’t know.”

You were vaguely aware of Eren calling for Mikasa, strong hands lifting you, bodies supporting your dead weight. The infirmary, hazy voices, ‘trauma,’ disembodied grey eyes, nervous observation. Void, melting away, drifting.

Your sleep was restless, filled with ravaged bodies, flayed flesh. As you finally awoke, you watched the glistening sinew creep up the walls, branded into your vision. Wordless, fearful babbling.

A strong hand pressed into your shoulder, pushing you back onto the mattress. Levi stood above you, expressionless, eyes roaming over your face. His hand remained until your expression calmed. The croak of your voice, your uncontrolled panic—you were humiliated. Eyes looking anywhere but him.

“I’m sorry, Captain.”

He scoffed.

“Stop thinking.” He let go of your shoulder and held out a glass of water, bringing it to your lips to drink. A worthless invalid.

He stayed with you for hours. Neither spoke. At one point he asked if you wanted him to leave—you admitted you didn’t.

Your hand rested on the edge of the bed, and he grabbed it without thinking. In spite of yourself, your face flushed at the contact. His touch was comfort, an unspoken assurance. When the nurse came to check on you, his grip stayed firm.

You were released the next day to a group of concerned teammates. Levi ordered them to stand down, but the words of your superior were no match for their worry. Despite insisting you were fine, they treaded lightly, on eggshells. Eren led you to the dining hall, a plate already prepared and sitting at the table with Mikasa and Armin.

“Please treat me like I’m normal.” Spoken with a hollow smile, a slapdash attempt at humor, normalcy.

Flushed, Armin rushed to insist you were normal; Eren denied any special treatment; Mikasa watched you carefully, as if she were afraid a heavy gaze would break you. You did feel the weight of her gaze, this time meeting her eyes, and you felt your chest swell. Her concern cut through you, warming your face. You tried to calm the rest of your friends down, but things began to escalate when Connie and Sasha joined in, mentioning they were glad you weren’t mentally ‘fucked up,’ to which Jean shushed them. Glares and overlapping, apologetic rambling overwhelmed you. You were grateful for their concern but only in doses.

Levi eyed your antics from his seat, recognizing your discomfort. He crossed the room in long strides, silencing the table with his arrival.

“Can I speak to you in my office?” His words were deadpan, but his eyes held no malice. You nodded, grateful he read you, and followed him out of the room.

—

“You’re not to train for the rest of the week.”

You couldn’t suppress your shock, which quickly turns to shame.

“Captain, I’m sorry. I won’t let my emotions interfere—”

Levi rolled his eyes, cutting you short. You shifted from foot to foot, unsure of what to say.

“It’s not punishment. Believe it or not, I’m actually concerned for your wellbeing.” Deadpan. You had assumed you would have acclimated to his way of speaking, but it still gave you pause. You couldn’t help you felt patronized by him.

You stood in front of his desk, looking at his cheeks, his forehead, feigning eye contact. His gaze bore into you.

“You’re not a special case. This has happened before.” Again, that equivocal, Levi-specific dialect. Did he mean to comfort you? You stayed silent, implicitly encouraging him to explain.

“It just—it happens when a soldier isn’t,” he paused, breaking eye contact, choosing his words carefully, “hardened.”

He returned his gaze to you.

“It doesn’t mean you’re weak, brat. You’re just still sensitive.”

You processed his words.

“How do you become strong?”

His eyebrows raised, fractionally. He set his jaw, his neutral expression returning.

“I just said this doesn’t mean you’re weak. You are strong.”

“I mean, how do I avoid more of these episodes?” You didn’t mean to raise your voice—you despised the desperation that slipped through.

“Just watch more people die.” He eyed your reaction, taking in your surprise.

“I don’t mean to be callous: it’s just a matter of exposure. Each death you see or cause or cannot prevent carves at your insides until you’re… hollow. And you have to let it happen.”

You were silenced, winded by a realization of a reality of unceasing cruelty. It was something you had always known, but to be faced with it so explicitly? You felt eviscerated.

“Many die before they reach that point—empathetic and afraid.”

Your knees threatened to buckle—Levi was quick to rise and support you. He apologized for going too far.

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

You insisted it was not his fault. He only spoke a truth you were simply not ready to face. Levi led you over to his desk chair and you shakily sat. He stood before you, unmoving, before walking away, giving you space—moments later, deciding against it, he turned at the heel and returned, kneeling in front of you. He grabbed your hands, and you felt his breath on your face. Meeting his gaze, you saw an uncharacteristic softness, iris wavering. You wondered if he liked speaking to you, holding you. You wondered what would happen if you placed a chaste kiss on his lips. Levi’s smell struck you—it was familiar, nostalgic; it reminded you of home. Of a past, forgotten. Of the sunshine streaming through your grandmother’s kitchen window, the smell of your father’s tobacco pipe, your mother’s vanilla perfume. You couldn’t remember the last time you imagined any of them alive, rather than lifeless viscera.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, retreating as fast as you had advanced. It was chaste, demure, and you watched Levi remain motionless, wide-eyed. Red shame crept up your neck into your face, but you instead focused on his shock—what was the last thing that truly surprised your captain?

Your captain—captain.

Reality set in and your eyes widened in horror. Impulse driven by an entirely constructed, drunken, nostalgic familiarity. You felt more faint than you had in days. It wasn’t even an especially passionate moment, more awkward and quiet and, frankly, underwhelming. Maybe that was what made a first kiss special: the unique mundanity of it. You wished you could revel in the indistinctness of the moment—but instead, you fearfully eyed Levi, half-embarrassed, half-angry that you would so blatantly and thoughtlessly overstep that boundary. You retraced your thoughts: had you ever been captivated by Levi, or were you caught up in the moment of comfort he offered you? The intimacy of familiarity, amity? Maybe a bit of both.

You watched as he finally recovered, defaulting to his normal expression. He didn’t have a tell, except for the deep red that tinged the tips of his ears. He pulled away, returning to his standing position and cutting you off before you had the chance to speak.

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He spoke firmly, softly. Idiosyncratically Levi.

Emboldened by some deep irrationality, you spoke, not shying away from his gaze: “It felt nice, sir.”

He was silent again, short-circuited by your boldness. You hung, suspended, in the tension of the room. He eventually confirmed your statement, agreeing.

“It did.” Bewildering for the both of you.

You insisted you needed to go back to your room and try to get some sleep, a cumbrous mess of meaning and filler words, and Levi didn’t stop you. There was no declaration of love, nor did he beg you to stay the night with him. You stood up and left, and as you shut the door, you looked back and caught a smile break through Levi’s look of consternation.

—

haha! part 1 of 2! i know we’re all horny and want levi to just ravage us, but i honestly think he wouldn’t know what to do with intimacy and physical touch and i will die on this hill if i have to! anyway, feedback and constructive criticism is always appreciated!

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #attack on titan imagine #attack on titan x reader #aot imagines #aot x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi x you #levi x reader #levi ackerman imagine #writing!

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ill-skillsgard · 4 years ago

Text

Faust x Faith - No Looking Back

Warning: 18+ smut, public sex, violence, blood, arson, implied death, mentions of non-consensual touching (nothing explicit and no r-words used,) mentions of stalking, unconsciousness, anti-religious themes, strong language.

Note: Hey, hey. I’ve wanted to write this for a while, but haven’t had much time. This isn’t based on any requests—just something I feel needs to happen to move the universe along. After this, I’ll be basing future FxF stuff off drabble requests instead of going story-heavy for a bit. Likes, comments and reblogs are suuuper ‘ppreciated!

Summary: - Not based on Lords of Chaos. I use Faust!Valter’s likeness only as inspiration - 3.6K words -

Faust makes good on his word to protect Faith, taking drastic measures to assure her assailant never bothers her again.

Read more Faust x Faith here [x]

Thin raindrops pattered the man's leather jacket as he walked through the streets with his hood drawn up and his eyes low. For two days, the drizzle persisted and melted the black snowbanks into slush. Though the dismal atmosphere kept most inside, Sven had good reason to travel across town on foot. The promise of a girl's company waited at the end of his route, and he put off his regular nightly routine of masturbating to fetish porn for—what he hoped was—the real thing.

He glanced at his cracked phone screen every few minutes to check in with her, making sure she hadn't changed her mind, that she was serious. From the earnestness of her messages and the speed at which she replied to his questions, he determined she meant what she said about wanting to meet. Finally, his luck was turning. He’d show that miserable bastard Faust who was the better man.

- What abt ur bf? Lol

- What about him? Not here, is he?

- Thought u were a good girl.

- Haha, not really. Are you close?

- Ya. Y r we meeting at this random place?

- I need you to promise you won't tell a soul. If you can prove that to me, maybe we can keep meeting up.

- Lol ok. I PROMISE I won't say a word😉

- Thank you. Hurry, please. It's cold out!

- Be there in 5. I'll let u wear my jacket altho idk might not need it😉

- Hehe omgosh. You're making me blush.

- I'll make u do way more then blush baby. Just wait.

Sven lengthened his strides and turned the corner onto a hill leading toward the industrial area of town. Down the slope, he walked past several warehouses and legions of trucks parked inside barbed-wire fencing. It was a peculiar site to meet up, but his rendezvous insisted on a place nobody would think to look.

Betting his night would take an erotic turn, Sven popped a piece of gum in his mouth and chewed away the cigarette taste. He was seconds away from the spot she chose to meet, and his chest constricted with excitement. His boots crunched over gravel and garbage as he walked down a narrow alley between two faceless buildings. There was an open lot at the end of the lane, where he assumed she was waiting. As he made his way through the dimly lit alley, he whistled to make his presence known. The shrill tune reverberated off an overflowing dumpster to his left, and as he stepped to clear the reeking trash receptacle, something hard and blunt swung out at eye-level and flattened him to the ground.

Dazed and blinded from the sudden strike, he tried moving his mouth, but only a bubble of blood popped from his lips. A piercing stream of sound filled his ears as the edges of his vision turned dark. A large black figure came into view above, haloed by the soggy grey sky in the deepening veil. The featureless shadow chuckled deeply before a heavy boot's tread put out his lights.

~*~

Several hours passed before Sven's eyelids shuddered. By then, his assailant had had plenty of time to tie him to a wooden chair and organize his instruments of punishment. A headache blistered through the man's skull, throbbing in his eye sockets until he gained enough consciousness to open them. When he saw the person who had knocked him out, his throat closed and the gasp ripping through came out high-pitched.

"Faust... Please... Don't—" Sven hiccoughed. "Don't do this. I'm sorry. I'm SORRY!"

Faust, who had been facing the doorway at the end of a long red runner, turned toward Sven, holding a hammer's handle in one hand while cradling the head in the other. A malicious smirk peeked out from a curtain of black hair. He took a step forward, the clomp of his leather boots echoing through the church. Each step made a menacing sound that bit down on Sven's nerves and rattled his sensitive skull.

"What are you apologizing for?"

"I know you hate me, but please, don't hurt me. I swear I'll never talk to her again!"

Faust approached, flashing the obsidian hammerhead. He tossed the tool in his grip and stuck his hand into his pocket, producing several five-inch nails.

"No! God, no, please! Faust! Don't do this!"

The black-haired giant stopped to admire the curve of the hammer’s prongs. Sven looked around the empty church and saw a jerrycan taking up space in a nearby pew. He immediately started struggling against the jute rope binding his wrists and ankles to the chair as Faust drew nearer, smile uncoiling.

"I already gave you the chance to never talk to her again. Remember?"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Sorry means fuck all to me. You should know that. The only reason you left the campsite with your dick intact is because of the witnesses," Faust said, then spun around with his arms out, showcasing their solitude. "Now, it's just you and me."

"Please don't," Sven muttered through swollen lips. "Fuck, I'll do anything!"

"There's nothing you can do. Nothing a sorry sack of human waste can provide this world to make me change my mind."

"SHE LIED!"

Faust jingled the nails in his jacket, reminding Sven who held the weapon.

"Whatever she told you... It's not true! I was at the party, but I didn't do anything to her!" Sven's voice cracked.

"Oh... So you didn't follow her into my bedroom?"

"No! I talked to her for a minute, and that's all. That's all, I swear, Faust. Don't kill me."

The stomp of boots neared the altar where Sven struggled in the chair. He twisted to loosen the rope and slipped one hand out. Faust grabbed his wrist and pinned it to the arm of the chair, readying a nail between his lips as he gripped the hammer. Sven let out a scream, stifled instantly by the hammerhead. Faust wedged the metal between his teeth and hissed.

"Shut the fuck up, or I'll use this to smash your teeth out like a goddamn window. Understand me?"

Sven nodded and quaked as Faust placed the tip of the nail against the soft, flat part of his forearm.

"Stay still. If I fuck up and hit the Radial or Ulnar artery... You could bleed out before I'm done. Gotta get it right between the bones." Faust slapped the pale skin to reveal blue veins. He pressed the nail’s tip in place and rose the hammer above his head, bringing it down and stopping short of the head as Sven shrieked.

Faust cackled. "Jesus Christ, dude. Did you really think I was gonna nail you to a chair?"

Sven groaned, relieved and moist with cold sweat. "Faust, I'm serious. Please, man. You gotta believe me."

His dark laughter continued, bouncing off the high ceilings, the wooden pews and polished floors. As Sven let out his own nervous chuckle, Faust brought the hammer down in one swift pull, then slapped his hand over Sven's gaping mouth to stifle the screams. Howling, Sven rattled his head back and forth as a searing bolt of pain tore through his right arm, crackling in his shoulder where it burned and burned.

Faust tore his phone out of his back pocket and brought up a video, slamming the screen into Sven's face. The video of him grabbing Faith in his room while he was states away watching the live feed from the camera he'd set up on the desk.

"I knew these little cameras would come in handy. See? I know what you did, you stupid fuck. And you know what else? I would have just beat the shit out of you had I not stopped by your place before our little meeting."

Sven whined, tears pouring from his eyes in steady streams.

"Oh, yeah. That's right. I went into your room... Saw some interesting things on your computer. At first, I thought it was just standard fucking creep shit. Snuff porn, torture... Teen girls. None of that surprised me... Until I dug around and found your little stalker file buried in your folders. You didn't even encrypt it. How fucking stupid are you?"

"I'm sorry," Sven shook.

"Why are you apologizing to me?"

"I'm sorry for touching her. I should have left her alone."

"What'd you think was gonna happen? That she wouldn't tell me? Or that I wouldn't believe her? And now I know you've been following Faith around, taking pictures of her, you fucking predator. And what about those other women, huh? You sorry about them, too?"

"Yes! I'm sorry. I know I have problems! I'm trying to get help. Please, Faust. If you let me go, I promise I'll do it. I'll get better. I haven’t hurt anyone!"

Faust shook his head slowly, grunting in refusal. "No. I meant what I said when I told you I'd crucify you if you went near Faith again. I'm doing the world a favour."

Sven hung his head and bled from the grievous wound pinning him to the chair, shuddering weakly from his injuries. Faust would never relent. He'd witnessed the drummer's cold disdain, the malignant hatred living inside that made him turn to the dark with open arms. Faust wasn't an actor. He pledged himself to the darkness with unyielding conviction, never one to take such things lightly. This realization depleted Sven's will to reason with the man.

Faust gripped another thick nail and drove it through Sven's left arm, smiling as blood dripped from the wood onto the church altar. The violent yelps filled Faust with morbid delight as he pressed the bloodied hammer under his victim's chin and raised his face.

"You're gonna die tonight, Sven."

"What makes you better than me? You'll be a murderer," Sven stuttered. "You hurt people, too."

"You and I are not the same. Don't ever compare yourself to me. You're a coward, and I warned you. Tread on what's mine, and I'll destroy you. That's what I said."

"All this over a girl? Are you fucking crazy!?"

Faust stooped to one knee, looking up at Sven as though the insult had cut him. Faust's brows arched, bottom lip jutting outward as he studied Sven, who closed his eyes. Then, Faust rose to his feet, leather stretching from the motion. Faust tapped his chin, smiled, and leaned over to whisper, "yes... Totally fucking crazy."

With a powerful kick to the chest, Faust sent the chair and Sven toppling backward. He then unzipped his pants, pulled out his manhood and giggled as he emptied his bladder on the weeping man. While Sven cried and moaned, Faust closed his zipper, whistling merrily. He left Sven on his back and snatched the jerrycan from the pew, taking slow, calculated steps while twisting off the cap and dousing the altar in gasoline.

As the gas trickled, Sven's desperation mounted. He could not flail, so he screamed. Faust gently reminded him what he'd do to Sven's teeth if he carried on shouting. The pinned man blubbered and begged, but Faust ignored his pleas. Inside his head, all Faust heard was the sound of flames rushing into a circle around Sven, crackling over the carpet and up the old church's wooden beams. By the time the roof caught fire, Faust had planned on being long gone.

"Please, Faust... You'll regret this! I know you're a serious person, but this is too far. You won't be able to live with yourself!"

"Wrong. I couldn't live with myself knowing I let a vulture like you walk this planet freely." Faust poured a trail down the floor runner, far away from the altar. He tossed the can aside and looked up at the Catholic saints' stained-glass portrayals and Jesus at the center of it all, staring down with sad eyes. Faust took a book of matches from his pocket and ripped one from the bunch, running its tip across the ignitor strip until a small flame burst to life. Faust flicked the match to the ground without a second thought, and the flame ate up the gasoline trail swiftly. The church was illuminated, and the colourful glass windows came to life. Faust raised his eyes to the forlorn Jesus and leered while the fire spread.

He did not stay to admire his work or revel in the cries of a man burning alive. Faust fled before the fire consumed the church, not once looking back or wondering if his victim had somehow escaped. He trudged through puddles of slush, hair swinging in the wind, white shadows of breath leaving his mouth.

It was time to get back to finish the tour. But he had one more stop to make.

~*~

Faith left the mall after helping close the book store. She received small smiles and nods from the mall staff as they locked doors and unfolded security gates. Some of the people she had spoken to before, and some she had only seen in passing. Though she returned their pleasantries, inside Faith was fretting. She tried not to worry about her boyfriend or ask where he was under strict orders to go about her day as usual.

She stepped into the evening air as the sun sank, taking the blue from the sky along for the descent. Wisps of white cloud stretched across the pink and violet above. Faith took in a deep breath and walked to the bus stop situated between a movie theatre and a dollar store. She popped her earbuds in and turned on a song that reminded her of Faust; one he wouldn’t like. His music taste had no room for the upbeat indie rock she enjoyed. Still, she smiled when the lyrics reminded her of him.

The scent of cigarette smoke caught her attention, and she looked around, finding no culprit. She wondered where the smell came from if nobody was around but soon forgot when the city bus appeared in the distance. It had to make a long trek around the parking lot before it pulled up at the movie theatre. Faith readied her bus card to scan as another cloud of smoke enveloped her senses.

Faith whirled around, and there he was, all black and leather, white teeth clutching the filter of a cigarette. Faust smiled, his words bolting from his mouth as she clamped her arms around him and crushed her face into his chest. The leather and musk brought tears to her eyes. She ripped out her earbuds and tried not to weep.

He hushed her, lifted her off the ground and retreated into the shadowed alley between the theatre and the store. By the time the bus pulled up, Faust had pressed her against the brick wall behind the building.

"Faust. Oh my gosh, where have you been? I was so worried," Faith gasped.

"Sh, don't ask questions, baby." Faust smothered her mouth, holding her thighs around his waist.

"Mm—I love you. Oh my God. I can’t believe you’re here! I love you so freaking much."

"I know you do," Faust breathed against her lips. "I love you, too, babe."

"Tell me where you've been!"

Faust shook his head and kissed her neck instead. She raked her fingers through his hair, knocking his hood down so she could see him unobstructed.

"Told you... Don't ask... Mmkay?... Stop asking... Just let me... Mm—fuck!"

Faith pulled his pelvis inward with her thighs, rubbing against his crotch and the heavy bullet belt wrapped around his hips. In their cloud of lust, Faust pushed his black jeans down just enough to free his erection.

"Fuck, I love your little skirts. Makes it so easy," Faust murmured.

The thought of Faust showing up disquieted her, but his lips on her skin and his desire thwarted these anxieties for a while. She set aside her questions, happy to have him in her arms again and overcome by arousal. When he stretched her panties aside and pushed into her, they both froze in expressions of excruciating ecstasy. Faust tilted his head back and closed his eyes, and Faith clutched his shoulders, already writhing from the intense fulfillment between her legs.

Just as she thought Faust might drop her, he bent his knees and hoisted her higher up on the wall. In his arms, she weighed close to nothing. She missed feeling tiny against him.

"Miss my cock?" He growled in her ear.

"Yes, baby. Oh my gosh, of course, I missed it. I missed my big man."

"Yeah? Fuck, I miss my little pussy," Faust breathed. "Mm, show me those gorgeous tits."

Faith unbuttoned her work polo and stretched the collar down around her breasts for Faust to bury his face. Though there wasn't an abundance of flesh to lose himself in, Faust shivered from the first taste of her nipples. With muted groans of pleasure, he rammed into her until Faith could no longer contain her cries, unaccustomed to his girth. Faust absorbed her whimpers with his mouth, coaxing her tongue until she only hummed.

He felt ferocious from the last twenty-four hours. If he could make Faith scream without drawing attention, Faust would have slammed her into the wall and fucked her until she shredded her vocal cords. He had to keep a low profile. Even visiting Faith was a considerable risk, but one he relished taking as she clamped her thighs and rutted against him.

He supported her ass in both hands and shifted off the wall to fuck her standing up. While he took her this way, she wrapped her arms around his neck and whimpered, whispering, "yes, fuck my pussy hard, big boy. Oh, I love that big cock inside me."

Faust unhooked and held her out so he could watch her breasts jiggle with every bounce. "You still taking your birth control? I'm gonna fucking bust so hard inside you, baby."

"Yeah. Yeah, baby, do it. Fill my pussy, please. I want your cum."

Her dirty talk and sweet sobs for his cock pushed him over the edge. He cradled her head as he pushed her against the wall and throbbed between her legs until empty. Faust pulled out and immediately turned her around and bent her over to watch globs of fresh cum dripping from her wet slit. He used one finger to push some of it back inside and had her suck off the rest. Afterward, he pulled up his pants and compressed her against the wall, one hand over her mouth while the other worked her clit in gentle circles. Faust didn't stop until she squealed and shuddered against him, muffled in his jacket and writhing from the manual orgasm.

When Faith calmed down, he released her and stepped away, pulling a cigarette from the squished pack in his jacket pocket. The lighter's flame created an orange halo around his face and promptly died. He smoked like nothing had happened while she fixed her skirt, buttoned her polo and zipped up her coat.

Faith smiled up at her lover, the night blotting out most of his features.

"I'm so glad you're home," she said.

"Not for long," Faust exhaled.

Her heart quivered. "Wait, what?"

"I gotta go back."

"When?"

"Tonight."

"What? No! But... You just got back," said Faith.

Faust shrugged, his leather jacket speaking for him. The evening matured, consuming the details of her hurt expression until the streetlamps along the road came to life.

"Why did you come here?"

Faust took one last long haul off his cigarette and flicked it down the alleyway. "Listen to me, Faith... You need to quit asking questions. I'm serious. The more questions you ask, the worse it'll be. And you and I did not see each other tonight. As far as you know, I'm on tour. Understand?"

"Yes," Faith said to appease him.

"I want to stay, trust me. But I can't. You know why. All the answers you want, you already have. Don't keep bugging, don't mention it ever again."

"I want to go with you," she whispered.

"No. You stay. Go to your classes, go to work, go visit your parents. Everything normal. And I don't want you moping around either. You put on that pretty smile, and you pretend for me. I'll call you in a couple of weeks before the last show and arrange a way for you to get there."

"What do you mean you’ll call in couple of weeks?" Faith whined. “What about goodnights?”

"I don't have a phone anymore."

"Why—? Oh, um... Okay. I understand."

Faust gathered the girl up in his arms and kissed the top of her head. "Good girl. I love you, and I miss you."

"I love you, too."

He tipped her face up and sensed tears forming in her eyes. Faust shook his head. "No crying. We'll see each other very soon. Just a couple more weeks."

"I know," she sighed.

"I love you more than anything, Faith. Now, go catch your bus. Should be here in a few minutes."

"But what about you?"

"Don't worry about me. I'm on tour. I'm not even here," he explained.

Faust kissed her again, smoothed his hands over her shoulders and turned her to face the bus stop. He urged her along. "No looking back. Hop on the bus and go do your schoolwork."

"Okay," she said, determined to make him proud. Faith walked out of the shadows and into the lamplight hovering over the depot. Across the lot, the city bus pulled in, and though she longed to turn around to see Faust watching over her, she kept her eyes forward and waited. When the bus pulled up, and the doors drew back, she stepped onto the platform and smiled at the driver as she scanned her pass. Faith took a seat in the back and put in her earbuds. She searched through a list of bands and selected the only one whose logo was illegible. As she pressed play, she listened to the immediate assault of the drums, their constant and violent beat. Faith smiled—warm in her chest and between her legs.

#faust x faith #valter skarsgård smut #valter skarsgård fanfiction #valter skarsgard fanfiction #Valter Skarsgard imagine

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heliosthegriffin · 4 years ago

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Frontier Life, baby!

Jaune is helping Mantel rebuild after the cataclysm that had just occurred, it wasn’t very pretty work, but helping people rebuild had a certain charm he couldn’t deny. Jaune also could help but hope it would help show the younger generation of children, that Hunters had a greater obligation besides fighting Grimm, they were Protectors of society, and if the protector fail, than it falls to them to help pick up the pieces.

Picking up the pieces of debris and trash and throwing them into a bag then deposit them at safe sites. For hours Jaune continue his work, working longer and harder than any civilian or trainee hunter could hope or be asked too. By evening he had helped clear where small apartment building once stood.

Throwing down the bag into the right pile to be sort, so that they could be reused properly. Jaune pondered whether he should pick another bag and keep working. It’d just be him as the other worker were looking pretty tired, but if he had the energy why shouldn’t he keep working?

His stomach rumbling changed his mind, the scent of cooked food being carried towards him. A food site had been constructed for the workers. Some food wouldn’t hurt.

Dinner a quiet affair, mostly people too tired to really want to converse, but he got a couple sincere thank yous from the people leaving. Jaune blushed, but said you’re welcome anyway.

Still feeling the need to do something, Jaune asked about getting rid of trash for the people running it. They agreeded after some polite negiotations, with Jaune agreeing to come back for dessert.

Going back to the trash pile Jaune heard something, like paws hitting metal and plastic, a low scratching sound mixed with growling. Jaune went to investigate putting down the bag, and putting a hand on Crocea Mor’s handle.

In middle of the trash pile was fully grown Mantlesian Tundra Bear, ten feet tall at the shoulder and twenty five feet long, and weigh up to 3,000 pounds.

Jaune paused staring at the pearly white coat of the creature in awe, it’s teeth catching his eyes as it ate, the fangs long as his hands. It’s powerful claws and paws easily the size of his head or bigger.

The bear turned sniffing the air, testing it, before seeing Jaune then snarling letting out a low growl that vibrated the air in Jaune’s chest.

The young man seemed frozen in fear, then his expression warped into one of a feral, toothy smile.

“OI, YA OVER GROWN WHITE FUCKER! YA THINK YA CAN STEP UP TO AN ARC AND NOT GET YOU NUT’S STOMPED UP YAR ASS? GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!” Jaune yelled at the bear, dropping Crocea Mor’s to the floor and fling his shirt and armor off, revealing a chest full of bite and claw scars.

The Bear roared at Jaune and charged, Jaune squared up, the only piece of clothing on his upper body being his gauntlets.

Suddenly though the Bear went flying through the air as an enormus paw sucker-punched it into the distance, as a new larger brown bear entered the scene.

The new bear was twice as larger as the previous, a gigantic Valean Forest Bear. Missing part of his nose, had part of it’s left ear missing from a bite mark, was cover in scars removing parts of its fur, and finally had an empty right eye socket.

The new arrival growled at Jaune, and pointed a paw at him.

“Oi, I remember you.” Jaune said squinting at the brown, touching a large claw scar that cut his chest in two from left pec to right side of his abs, and bite scar that covered his right shoulder and leaving lines of puncture scars down his chest. “Yer the fucker that gave me these.”

*9 year’s ago*

10 year-old Jaune is in the kitchen making a sandwich, when he hear’s scratching and clawing from outside.

Jaune put’s down the sandwich, and runs outside.

A huge fuck-off grizzly is going through his trash.

He takes off his shirt and throws it inside, “HEY YA BIG BROWN BEARSTARD!” Jaune wraps his hands in tape before ripping off the ends with his teeth. “YOU WON’T BE THE FIRST BLOODLY BEAR THAT’S STEPPED UP TO THE ARC HOUSE AND YOU DAMN WELL WON’T BE THE LAST!” Jaune squares up, the bear charges at him, the scene fades to black.

*Back to present*

The bear snorted and seemed to gesture at the scars on himself.

“Heh, fair enough,” Jaune laughs. “Now quiet wasting my time,” Then man removing his gauntlets and wrapping his hands up in tape. “And try to actually make me feel it this time!” Jaune charges the bear and the bear roars.

-Scene fades to black-

The next morning....

Jaune walks into the dorms bloody, naked, and shaking with cold, but wrapped up in a the skin of a bear. He falls in his bed, ruining it, and is out cold.

His team can only stare in confusion at the sight, while Team RWBY looked in from the hallway in shock. Ren shook his head. “We will never get these stains out, will we?”

Penny nods “Affirmative Friend Ren!”

#Jaune Arc #Jaune Arc Professional Bear-Fighter #Jaune Arc Crack #Crack

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fluffyfranny · 3 years ago

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So hey! Might as well start posting!

Starting off with an oldie in my past writing archives when I was at my peak in the Markiplier fandom. Still love his content dearly, but I don’t think I’ll write for his egos anytime soon.

Posting this with a lil motivation from @yaysof11037 who has become such a great mutual earlier on this week! (If ya haven’t checked out their works you totally should btw). In return for the lovely angst they provided for me, angst is what you shall receive in turn >:3

Hope y’all enjoy this piece I conjured WAY back in April :0

TW for descriptive gore, past and present character death and overall angst in general under the cut >:3

~Gone Too Soon~

Paranoia.

That was one of the primary emotions Eric felt all the time. The poor boy had been through a lot. He had lost a majority of his family, including his mother and the rest of his brothers, in a tragic accident, and he considered himself an “omen” of bad luck, of sorts, since things seemed to die around him.

Unfortunately, that was about to come true, once again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It all started one brisk night, when Eric was having trouble sleeping for what seemed like the fifth time this week. He tossed and turned underneath the sheets, clutching his worn-down, yellow handkerchief with an iron grip in one of his fists. This lasted for about an hour.

The primary cause for this state of unrest, however, was not only his ever present state of anxiousness, but the fact that a nightmare unlike any he had ever dreamt was roiling through his mind.

He had dreamt that the rest of the Ipliers currently living in the manor, including his father, had mysteriously disappeared. Eric had been wandering the halls, calling out for them, his cries becoming squeaky as tears threatened to spill over...

Before he found his family and the states that they were in...

But then, he shot bolt upright in his bed. His breaths were rapid and his forehead was layered with a fine sheen of nervous sweat. He pinched his hand to make sure that it was all a dream, and fortunately, it was.

Eric tried to stabilize his breathing then and there, attempting to calm down. “It w-was all j-just a bad d-dream,” he kept repeating to himself. “None of t-that was r-real.”

With a sharp exhale of air, he dragged himself out of bed and left his room. He figured a walk around the vast, ever-expanding halls of the manor would calm his nerves, along with a glass of water.

The weight of his prosthetics made the stairs creak, but the other Ipliers knew better than to interrogate whoever was making such a ruckus. When they heard the familiar metallic clunk against the steps, they knew it was Eric, and they either left him be or awoke to provide him assistance, if needed.

As he made his way down the stairs and into one of the bigger hallways, he sensed that something was off. The air felt thicker, as if some invisible force was adding weight to the environment without anything actually being there.

In addition, he thought he caught a whiff of something along the lines of smoke. He shivered slightly at all of this, but shook his head in denial, brushing these factors off as remaining slivers of his nightmare that still plagued his mind.

Eric was just about to step foot into the living room when one of his prosthetic legs slipped in something wet, nearly sending him careening to the tile floor. Fortunately, he grabbed onto the railing on the side of the wall with a less than elusive yelp to stabilize himself.

He caught his breath and, with fear laced in his vision, glanced down slowly towards the ground. He nearly started having another panic attack when he saw a smear of red coat the tile and flow around the bend. The red coloration was so deep, it nearly appeared black as ink.

With even shakier steps, Eric clambered around the corner to locate the source of the stain…

Only to be met with the pale, lifeless stare of his father, lying in a pool of his own blood.

This time, Eric’s screech could be heard across the entirety of the mansion, had it been any louder. He immediately knelt down and began inspecting Derek’s clothes with quivering hands. His red, white and blue polo shirt was now dyed with an even darker crimson due to the blood seeping out of a massive hole in his chest.

“D-dad?” Eric whimpered, his handkerchief slightly speckled with Derek’s blood after placing it next to him. “W-what h-happened? Pl-please get up!”

He began shaking his parent’s shoulders rather forcefully, causing his head to loll to the side rather limply, then softly thumping back down onto the floor once Eric had ceased his actions.

Before he could let loose a scream of his own, several more heart-stopping yells proceeded to echo throughout the living room and the halls surrounding it, followed by the crashing of bodies. Eric’s head snapped up and glanced in all directions to locate who was screaming. However, despite the noises sounding like they were coming from right around him, there was nobody else with him. Aside from his father.

Then, that’s when he heard them.

“Why, hello there, Eric.”

His head whipped to his left to meet the gaze of a man talked about throughout the household, but none too kindly. Said man stood before him in a red tailcoat and black dress pants, both of which had gashes torn in them, and from these gashes seeped both red and black. Various other cuts also covered his bare hands and face. The red was definitely blood, Eric assumed, but why was this man bleeding black as well?

Either way, it didn’t matter as the man strode in Eric’s direction and placed the blunt end of the cane he clutched on the area where his heart would be before giving the area a gentle tap and stepping back again, smiling wickedly all the while.

“Wh-what have y-you done with m-my friends?” Eric stammered, trying to lace some confidence into his voice. “M-Mark?”

“Oh, poor, sweet Eric,” Mark tutted, shaking his head and scattering loose flecks of blood and pitch-black ichor. “I’ve been waiting a while now to exact my revenge against your...family here.”

“R-r-revenge?” Eric questioned with wide eyes and a more noticeable quiver in his voice. “B-but the others a-are so sweet t-to me. They’d n-never do-”

“Oh, but my friend,” Mark interrupted with a wave of his hand. “You’ve just missed out on all the horrendous things they have done to others. Even to me.”

“T-that’s a l-lie!” Eric tried to shout. “They’d never d-do anything b-bad to others! You’re just t-trying to c-convince me o-otherwise!”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Mark began to raise his voice, inky-black ichor seeping out of the corners of his mouth. “You’re just too naive to see it! The others are evil…”

“No, t-that’s y-you!” Eric finally found the courage to retort back semi-confidently. “Y-you’re the e-evil one!”

At this, Mark’s eyes widened, and he turned his head slowly towards him, a pissed look in his eyes and on his face. He snarled, his lips quirking up to bare his teeth back at the boy.

“You insufferable brat!” Mark said, ever angrier. “Just for all that you’ve said and done, I’ll show you what has been made of your “family” and be on my way.”

Before Mark disappeared in an explosion of smoky black mist, he gave Eric one final glare and remark:

“Don’t be surprised if you end up being next.”

And with that, he was gone.

However, once he vanished, the air around the room began to shimmer before the environment revealed a truly horrendous sight from behind Mark’s illusion.

Blood and gore everywhere.

Eric felt like he was going to be sick at the sight of his friends plastered around the house, laying in their own life essence. He hesitantly gazed around and, one by one, took note of what happened to each of them.

First, he spotted Wilford in the kitchen, draped over the countertop with the broken end of a wine bottle stuck in his head, the jagged ring of glass biting into his scalp and sticking there, all the while drawing blood that flowed off of Wil’s head like tiny rivers.

Then, he saw Bim hanging from a taxidermy deer skull in the living room, the antlers emerging from above his eye sockets to make it look like he had sprouted the appendages.

As Eric shook his head in both fear and denial, he practically bolted out of the conjoining rooms and down the hall he came from. There, he saw both Google and Bing’s dismembered parts scattered across the floor, with a few limbs laying on the stairwell and a head posted atop it. Whoever’s head it was was barely recognizable, for the artificial skin was peeled away to reveal the mechanical insides.

Eric, surprisingly, only started to cry harder now, tears rapidly streaming down his cheeks as he realized that this was not just a dream.

It was a nightmare come true.

He then came across Dr Iplier, whose corpse was laying halfway inside a closet and covered with crudely stitched gashes that still leaked blood, which, to Eric’s horror, was a mixture of the red and black that Mark was coated in.

As he rounded the corner, avoiding going upstairs again, he nearly tripped over Host, whose blindfold was ripped clean off to expose his empty, bloody eye sockets. In addition, he was also missing the skin on one side of his jaw, exposing the teeth and bone beneath to give him a zombified look.

This drew a gag from Eric at the sight of Host’s mangled face, and he quickly fled deeper down the hall.

At this point, he had exhausted himself, so he simply let his back hit the wall and slide down to the floor, where he held his head between his knees. He then began to let loose gut-wrenching sobs that would make anyone else cry, as well.

He pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and began to fidget with it, nearly tearing it in half with the force he was using on it.

Just as he was about to fling the cloth away, he felt the air around him drop in temperature, which caused him to look up. There stood Dark, his hair disheveled as if he were running his fingers through it all day. His jacket and shirt were both wrinkled, and his tie was missing.

At the sight of Eric curled up in a sobbing mess, Dark got on both knees in front of him and patted one of his own. He looked up to see the pale man smiling at him sadly.

“I’m terribly sorry, Eric,” Dark spoke at a low volume. “We couldn’t save them.”

Eric choked out another sob as he gazed up at Dark with watery eyes. “Th-they’re all dead! Even m-my d-dad is g-gone. My whole f-family is g-gone!”

He put his head between his legs again so Dark wouldn’t see him cry anymore. He felt a heavy hand rest atop his head and ruffle his hair, a seemingly kind gesture amidst these depressing times.

“Look here, Eric,” Dark said as he gently pressed a fingertip underneath Eric’s chin and raising his head to look back at him. “You still have me. We can be our own little family.”

“B-but what if M-Mark comes back f-for you?” Eric whined. “Th-then I’ll b-be all a-alone!”

“Trust me as you have in the past,” Dark drawled out, moving the hand away from his chin and dropping it back to his side. “He won’t be back.”

“P-promise?” Eric questioned, voice shaking harder than it ever had.

Dark merely responded with a nod and one word:

“Promise.”

Before he could get up and take Eric away with him, he let out a grunt and got back on his knees. Eric could only stare in horror as a spot on Dark’s dress shirt became soaked in black. The spot only grew bigger, as if he were hit with a bullet, and the blood was spreading further out.

Dark gently prodded at the fresh hoel in his gut before looking back up at Eric and uttering two words that would be the last he’d ever hear.

“I’m sorry.”

After uttering those final words, Dark collapsed right into Eric’s lap, his head landing in his cupped hands. He let out a shocked gasp and lifted Dark’s head up to look into his eyes and wave his hand in front of them.

“Oh...oh n-no, D-Dark, please d-don’t!” He began to babble uncontrollably, tears falling faster than ever, with a few landing onto Dark’s cheeks to make it seem as if he were crying. They ran down his face, which seemed to be getting paler by the second, even though it seemed impossible for him to pale any further.

“P-please don’t l-leave me,” Eric sobbed, cradling Dark’s head as he felt his blood soak into his own polo shirt, staining it black. “N-not alone in th-this place.”

Dark could only let out a faint wheeze that sounded like a chuckle before he took one final deep breath and let it out. His obsidian eyes seemed to dim as this last breath fled from between his lips.

Eric gasped as he heard this and, not wanting to lose the last friend he had left, clutched onto Dark’s body and held him close, his head lolling over and landing limply onto Eric’s shoulder.

He sat there, clinging to Dark’s body amidst the massacre of his family that had taken place just mere moments ago, and cried for hours on end.

This was truly a nightmare that Eric would never wake up from.

#markiplier fandom #markiplier egos #eric ericson #darkiplier #actor mark #wilford warfstache #bim trimmer #googleplier #bingiplier #dr iplier #markiplier the host

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bodyswapmischief · 4 years ago

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The Crossroad Contract

Are you okay?

Yeah? What do you mean?

I don't know ... you have been distracted all night. Like you have been thinking about something. You been constantly looking at your watch. And, you keep looking around like you expecting some one to show up.

Okay, I get it, I get. I don't know ... I guess I just been stressed lately. But, it's nothing you need to worry about.

Are you sure? Because if I didn't know better it kinda feels like your trying to hide from someone. We been dating for a year now, so I know when something is wrong. Did you get into trouble?

No, it's nothing I promise. It just a lot is happening at the ... at the gym. In fact we are planning on creating some branches. I've been waiting to hear from Mark because we are expecting to meet up with some sponsors to help us expand. That's why I've been anxious. We should be having an online meeting, tonight.

What!? That's great! I know once they see how fit and hot you are, you'll have them eating out of your hand. You don't got anything to worry about.

Jason and Eric continued the rest of their date. Jason tried his best to act normal in front of his boyfriend, but inside the fear of what was coming ate at his mind.

Do you want to come inside?

No. I actually got the text from Marc. I need to rush home and get my presentation ready for the zoom meeting we are having.

Jason gave Eric a tight squeeze, as they hugged. Even though Jason was taller, bigger, and stronger than his boyfriend, he felt safe in Eric's arms. He loved this feeling. He loved everything about this past year. And, he wanted to stay in this moment for ever.

But, he knew he couldn't. It wasn't safe to be near Eric, as the night grew later. He gave Eric a kiss a turned back to get into his car. As he drove home, his strong musclar arms shook with the the growing intensity of fear.

Reaching his apartment he prepared himself for what was to come. As the time past, Jason did all he could think to do, pray.

Dear God forgive me for what I did. For give me for my sins. I need you now. I need your strength.

His isn't listening.

The room filled with an echoed laughter. Jason opened his eyes and noticed the room was even darker than before. Sitting on the couch across from him was a what looked like a man. He stretched out comfortably. He was extremely attractive, dressed in an all black suit. His eyes matched, as their were no whites. His eyes were pools of pure black. The expression on his face was one of twisted joy.

It always amuses me that people like you feel worthy of forgiveness.

The figure laughs. And Jason instantly started shaking with fear. He was sure that he head more time. Looking at the clock, 11:00 pm, he should have had an hour left

Do you need to be reminded of the 5 soul you destroyed to summon me? The poor souls you used to selfishly stir up this deal. The things you did to have the body of your dreams.

The man continued his laughing. Jason tried to speak up, but fear gagged any attempt at sound.

What cat got your tongue? Don't you remember how you stabbed your father in his heart, as he slept. What about your mother? She woke up to the bloody sight. Your father bleeding out. She started screaming. How many times did you stabbed her in the neck? And your poor sister, at first she thought you enter her room to protect her, but once she saw the blood she knew the truth...

Stop!! Shut the fuck up!!! I don't want to hear it!!!

Tears started streaming down Jason's face.

Wow, someone has major balls yelling at a demon. But, your right ... what you did to your two friends was way worst...

Please shut up! If I could go back, I would have never done it. I'm sorry... Take this back ... I don't want this ...

Jason collapsed on the floor begging to the demon he summoned a year ago. His heart screamed with the pain of what he had done.

It's a little late for that, now isn't it. We made a deal. Those 5 souls for your "perfect body." It's not like I can just recreate those 5 souls for you. That body is now permanently yours for as long as you live. Live... now that's a funny word. Because it brings me to my real reason for coming here tonight. You know what I'm talking about. It's been a year buddy ... and you haven't delivered a new souls to hell. Do I need to remind you about the second clause of our agreement.

No... I know.. In order to stay alive in my new body. I must continue to kill a minimum of 1 person every year, otherwise I'll be dragged to hell.

Jason wiped away his tears feeling of defeated. In a strange way he wanted this. He felt like he deserved it. The guilt of killing his family and friends weighed on him for the entire year.

Well then do it! Take me to hell.

The demon smiled as chains emerged from him. They snaked around the room and wrapped around Jason. The strung around him and stabbed into his skin. He screamed out in pain. And, painfully his body started moving on its own.

Tears started forming in his eyes, as he feared his fate. In the corner of his room, a figure started to take shape. The closer he got the clear the figure became and the more he tried to scream. But, all that came out of his mouth were moans of panic.

Standing in front of him was a monster. The creatures body was tall with stretched limbs. It's skin was pale and was patterned with sores and cuts. It stood on bended knees. It fingers were long and curled, in disfigurement. It's nails black and sharp, resembling claws. The face was long and sunken in at the empty eye sockets. The skin hung loose on the bone. Holes done by picking reveled deep layers underneath the skin. It lips were cracked and torn.

The demon laughed.

Do you still wish to go to hell?

Jason was able to regain his movement and feel to the floor. From the corner of his eyes Jason could see the creature lung down towards him. Expecting to be ripped apart by the creature he closed his eyes. But, seconds past and nothing happened. Slowly he open his eyes and looked up. The creature was also looking up. The Demon started to do a soft chuckle.

Jason slowly picked himself up, not sure what was going on. The creature did the same. The Demon's chuckles got louder. Jason started slowly walking backwards away from the creature. The creature did the same creating more space between then. The demon was laughing hysterically now.

How do you not see it it? Are you really that blind to the situation?

The words rang through Jason's mind. His faced turned to shock. And in a twisted way the creature face also turned to one of shock. As Jason looked at the empty sockets of the creature, his brain works 1 billion times per second. He was looking at himself. He looked down at his body and still saw the ripped muscular body of his dreams. But, looking back at the creature he could see it was also him twisted, stretch, tortured, and mutilated.

What the hell is going on? What did you do to me?

I didn't do anything. I'm just merely showing you your true reflection. Yes on the outside and to the world, you look like a beefcake. But, once you leave that vessel. Once you die, this is your truth. Your true form, this is how you really look.

Jason stood in shock. He lifted his hands to his face. Touching his features and the creature did the same.

This can't be.

What!? You sold your soul Jason. You couldn't think your soul would still look pure and beautiful. God has disowned you and cursed your appearance to match. You are scared of becoming a monster. But, you already are one. Let yourself be one.

Jason fell to the floor, sobbing, The adrenaline from the fear starting to wear off. He was tired and defeated.

So what now!? Your going take away my body and torture me for all eternity, while looking like some type of monster!

Well that's up to you, Jason. You signed the contract. You know the consequences. Either take a life and live in this extremely attractive vessel for another year, or lose everything and be tortured until that mind of yours becomes just as twisted as your soul. Either way you become one of Lucifier's pets. But, doing it the easy way, at least you continue to look hot and have some sense of yourself still intact.

But, this body won't last for ever. Eventually it's going to die... so. I'd have nothing eventually.

Jason!! What don't you understand! Your a demon now. You are basically employed by the devil. Once that body becomes obsolete, and you are in good graces with Lucifer, you will receive a new body, in order to complete the work Lucifer ask of you.

So if I make the devil happy ... I can live the life I always wanted... and more.

Now, someone's getting it. Let the monster within, be unleashed. Let your dark desires free. You've killed once and you can do it again. Deep down you know you crave it. But you better work fast. By the looks of the clock ... you only have 30 minutes left.

Why are you telling me all this.

Your my recruit... if you do a good job... it also make me look good. And, I'm looking for a promotion.

The demon winks and with a flash he vanished. Jason looked around the room and catches a glimpse of his reflection. For a split second, he saw the demonic reflection of his soul. And, in that moment everything clicked. He had to stop pretending. He had to let loose and be himself. Be the monster. He knew what he had to do. He couldn't let everything he worked for slip away from his grasp. The souls of his family and friends would just be wasted. He might be a monster but he didn't have to look like one. He still deserved happiness, right? He deserved power. He wanted more power.

Now, that he knew what was at stake he started to really think to himself.. if this body was just given to him for signing a contract, then what else would he be able to achieve if he continued to make Lucifer happy.

He went to his kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife he had and slid it inside the back of his pants.

He pulled out his phone and started texting.

Hey babe, the meeting ended and it went really well. There was no reason to be anxious, in the first place. You were right. I thought I'd come back to your place. So, we could celebrate and I can release this tension I been holding in all day. I'll be there in 5 minutes. I'm dying to stick it in you 😉

Wow, the meeting must have gone great! You're not usually this flirty and direct. But, I like it. It's turning me on. Hurry, I'll be here waiting.

Jason looked up from his phone and smiled as he walked to his boyfriends apartment, a few minutes down the street. The thoughts of ramming his knife, into his lover, turned him on.

#body #swap #mischief #transformation #tf #story #stories

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mimiplaysgames · 4 years ago

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Terraqua Week Day 4 (Legends/Tales)

Summary: Someone calls for help from the deepest depths of darkness. Terra and Aqua trace the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. || Word Count: 8,983

Read on AO3

A/N: @terraquaweek hooooo if you thought yesterday’s was angsty dkfjdkfjdk So everyone and their mom compares Terraqua to Orpheus and Eurydice (Orphydice?) and I totally agree. It was time to officially jump that wagon. This one was difficult though - originally, I was going to have them sitting near a fireplace and talking about fairy tales over drinks, but I think I did the sit down apology fic way too many times and needed something different. This one was a huge challenge in such a tiny frame of time though. It took me the longest to write (a whole week, when I normally take months), so I couldn’t clean it as much as I would like to. I hope you like it anyway! <3

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Long Way Down ~ no further debts to be paid

Aqua has been dragging him all over town, following a call—this gut-wrenching feeling that something is wrong and someone is crying but she doesn’t know who or where. Except here, wandering around Thebes, though Terra doesn’t mind at all. Keyblade wielders are supposed to follow their hearts. Terra will follow hers anywhere.

What he does mind, though, are these screaming fangirls.

He collides head first into a neglected booth of rugs, scampering away from a group of young women who were trying to rip his left arm out of his socket, seeking pieces of his armor. They squeal, they cry, they sigh with all the fever of delusion. Champion! Terra! You’ve come back! You’re more beautiful than the gods!

Aqua strides by him, hiding an amused smirk behind her elegant fingers. “You picked a good hiding place.” She straightens a bent rug and rolls it tighter, letting it lean on its side by the wall.

Terra knocks a rug off of his head. “I did nothing to deserve this.”

“I nearly forgot,” Aqua says in a way that means she didn’t. “You won a championship.”

“Years ago. Once.” He kicks the pile on his back and crawls out. Zack and Hercules would never let it down if they hear about him hiding from harmless girls like he’s a mouse. “I’m no celebrity.”

“I beg to differ.” She unfolds a tapestry. Weaved into the fabric is a figure of a man armored in golds and burgundies, tall with dark hair and wielding a giant key. “You’re a story they share. Be grateful for your adoring fans.”

The only thing he’d be grateful for is the attention of the person standing right next to him. He never thought about the Olympus Coliseum championship while he was possessed and trapped in Darkness, not once. He thought of her every day and night.

“I think you’re jealous they’re chasing me and not you, Master Aqua.”

“Well, I would handle it with more grace.” She beats dust out of the corner of a rug with her hand.

The way she jokes with him is instinctual, natural, but the way her eyes wander is not, like she’s not paying attention. They’ve searched Thebes for hours, and while the city-state’s stairs for hills and elaborate gardens are impressive, they’ve found no lead as to who Aqua is looking for. She unrolls another tapestry like she’s reading a scroll. She doesn’t even have a name, just a dream that spoke to her one night: Find me, please.

“There’s nothing here, either,” she mumbles.

Terra doesn’t know how to lift her spirits. “Maybe the answer is not in Thebes.”

“We haven’t searched everywhere.” She pulls out another tapestry that he’s sure she’s already deciphered.

How many times are they going to circle the marketplace? Terra sighs and risks peeking at the main street from the alleyway. If he stays close enough to Aqua, the fangirls stay farther away, as though she’s a repellant. Who knew Aqua makes for a good shield.

The marketplace swarms with chatter and dust pickup from sandals and wheels. They’ve been through every store on this block. They’ve been through museums, they’ve listened to storytellers on the streets, met with sages and fortune tellers. There’s not much to deduce out of a whisper from a dream.

A high-pitched scream breaks through the loud talk of shopgoers, and Terra summons his Keyblade, watching for Heartless.

It comes from a girl, pointing a finger at him. Everyone else gawks. She shivers from head to toe. “Terra!”

At the sound of his name, like mockingbirds for sheep, they call out. “Terra!”

“Damn the stars,” he mutters and sprints back into the alleyway, a stampede behind him. “Aqua?” She’s not by the rugs. “Aqua!” He turns the corner of the empty alleyway, stuck between choosing a direction in a crossover. There’s no sign of her, no sign of his star in the darkness or his shield.

A hand waves at him through a window.

“Terra!” the girls squeal.

He dashes, throwing himself through the window. He lands on his back, on hard concrete. Aqua cradles his head on her lap and keeps low beneath the windowsill, a finger to her lips as the wave of giggles and cries ride past them and fade away.

“You were gone,” he whispers.

Aqua brushes her fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry,” she says, but she offers no explanation.

They’re in what looks like the back room of a pottery shop, half of them unpainted with the clay still slick, and the rest completed but possibly not inventoried yet.

“We’re breaking into people’s homes now?” Terra asks, grunting.

“You needed a hiding place,” Aqua says. She sounds unlike herself. Too tone-deaf, too distracted, her heart in the right place to help him like she always does, but she’s disregarding the consequences she’d normally consider before making such rash decisions.

“Why are we here?”

Aqua looks at him with a blank expression. “I don’t know.”

“You just waltzed in here?” He sighs. The shopkeeper is lucky Terra hasn’t destroyed anything when he crashed. He sits up and holds her chin, checking for vital signs of injury. “Are you feeling alright?”

Aqua grimaces. “Maybe we’re in here for a reason.”

Or maybe she’s lost her mind.

“Is it too early for me to say that I’m worried about you?”

“I’d say so.”

Terra scoffs and stands up, his knee hitting a table next to him. The vase on the surface rattles and spins. Aqua catches it.

When she glances at the artwork, she glares. “This one.”

“Huh?”

The vase is stamped with an image in black. Two figures, a man and a woman, reach out for each other, but there’s a wall between them.

“You recognize this?” Terra asks.

Aqua waits before she answers. On the man’s side is a lyre. On the woman’s, wisps of smoke. “Not really. But something about it is so unpleasant.”

It’s not much, but her reaction is the closest they have ever gotten so far.

She takes the vase with her and heads out the window, the door to the rest of the shop locked. “I’m borrowing it.”

“Aqua—”

“I’ll bring it back.”

Out in the alleyway, Aqua cradles the vase gently in her arms, desperately looking around for someone to talk to.

As much as he doesn’t want to, he says, “We can head back to the marketplace.”

The shuffle of feet approach them from behind the building next door. A lost girl blinks at them, her makeup smudged and running as though she’s been crying, her lip color smeared on her teeth. She recognizes Terra—

—Terra casts Silence on her and pulls her aside, up against a wall. “Shhh. Please don’t yell, please don’t yell.”

Without her voice, her squeals are replaced with gasps. She throws her arms around him.

“Hey!”

Aqua runs up to them without acknowledging how Terra is peeling this girl off himself. She points to the vase. “Do you know who this is?” The girl stares back. “Can you tell me? Please?”

As much as he really doesn’t want to, there are miles he’s willing to trek just for Aqua. “If I remove my spell,” Terra tells the girl, “and you answer Aqua, very gently, who this picture is supposed to be of, I’ll let you hug me again.”

The girl’s eyes go wide and she nods.

He recants his spell, and the girl suppresses her squeaks.

“Oh gods, it’s really Terra.” She hops, pinning her hands in between her legs. “You smell so good. I love you, Terra. I mean, um…” Instead of speaking to Aqua, the girl just locks her eyes at him. “That’s Orpheus. Everyone knows who that is.”

The look on Aqua’s face tells Terra that her heart is stirring.

“What’s his story?” Terra asks.

The girl is happy to oblige. “He sings the saddest ballads, all about the death of his most beloved wife.” She twirls a lock of hair. “Lost her to a snakebite. They say he went to the Underworld to find her, but he lost her along the way. He wasn’t a strong person.” She stands on her toes. “Not like you, Terra. You wouldn’t leave the one you love in the darkness, would you? You’d save them?”

Terra steps back. The onslaught of such specific questions makes him sick to his stomach.

The girl leans forward. “Can I touch your hair?”

“No.” He slaps her hand out of the way.

“Where can I find him?” Aqua asks, completely serious.

The girl rolls her eyes this time, as though it’s such a rude interruption. “If you trek up Mount Olympus, you’ll eventually cross a forest. You can find his head there.”

“His head?” Terra says.

The girl steps up to meet him face to face. “They say he still sings—that’s how Death came to meet him. Anyone who hears his songs will be instantly enamored. Man and beast alike. Even the leaves and the stones will move just to be near him. That reminds me of you, Terra.”

Aqua—already sprinting back toward his direction from the pottery shop after leaving her borrowed vase at its windowsill—cuts between Terra and the fangirl, pulling him away from her by the hand. The hug he promised this girl is cancelled, and Terra is grateful for it

“Thank you!” Aqua says, not breaking her speed. The girl is left behind, dejected.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Thebes is now a miniature, a toy town of red roofs and sandstone streets, that disappears from view as soon as they cross over a cliff, where the face of a forest is tucked away. The quiet greets them, a chirp of a bird here and there.

Terra follows Aqua, not knowing where she’s going.

“So we’re looking for a severed head?” he asks.

“According to the girl, yes.”

“Isn’t that a bit gruesome?”

“I think what she was hoping to do to you may be worse.”

Aqua skids to a stop. She looks over to her left, and runs in that direction. The treeline gets thicker, casting a dim filter over the ground. Aqua stops at a short, stone monument—a statue of a head on a pillar. The man’s face is carved with an open mouth, like he’s singing an opera. The trees sway in the wind.

“That’s Orpheus?” Terra asks quietly.

Aqua frowns. “I don’t hear a song.”

“I don’t, either.”

“But I feel so sad.” She holds a fist over her heart, her eyes watery.

Terra places a hand on her bare shoulder. She feels cold, and he has a sickly feeling that she’s getting worse. “What do we do now?”

“I don’t know, yet. There’s not much I can do here. There’s no text, no clues.” Aqua walks, scanning the ground for a hint.

For a mural, there are no words or poems honored to Orpheus, no maps or glyphs that lend to any guidance. Terra touches the head of the pillar. He feels nothing. Keyblade wielders can be invulnerable to certain spells, but this is supposed to represent grief, and grief is Darkness. How he isn’t affected is an enigma to him—how he is spared and Aqua is not, is worrisome.

“You know what I think?” he asks.

She’s no longer there. Terra steps away from the statue.

“Aqua?”

No answer.

He jolts into a sprint, passing tree after tree with no sign of blue, none of her sashes flowing in the air. How did she get so far away?

Terra shouldn’t be so worried. The Heartless population here after the Keyblade War is minimal, and Aqua is more than capable of taking care of herself—but how she’s coming in and out of reality is more than Terra can bear. He can’t lose her. Not ever again.

“Aqua!”

Terra cries out in relief. She’s standing in a field of red flowers. Lilies, by the shape of them, speckled in the color of raspberries. Their stems curve over, swaying like bells. They’re not stretched towards the sun but hang towards the ground, as if they’re watching for fingers to climb out through the grass.

“I thought I lost you,” he says when he approaches her.

Aqua crosses her arms. “There’s something here.” When she inhales, she turns around like she just realized he was there. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Terra fights the urge to hug her. He loses, taking her in his arms. “I think I’m going crazy... I’m so glad you’re okay,” he says, though there’s so much more he needs to tell her.

“What a little, perfect, crispy portrait of a love story,” a heedy voice says, pronouncing every syllable with sweet spite, exaggerated by hand movements. First is the creep of black smoke over the grass. A shadow emerges from behind a tree, bald head with blue fire for hair, a long black cloak wrapped around his body. “Really, it’s a photo op, an exhibition, a grand spectacle.” He frames them with his fingers. “Bluebird and the Waste of Space, classic. All the children will hear about it.”

“Of course you’re involved in this,” Terra spits, letting Aqua go. He keeps his Keyblade near, in case he needs to summon it.

“On the contrary, I’m the victim in this case.”

“Hades,” Aqua says, an icy chill to her voice. “These flowers...”

“You like them?” Hades flashes a grin, teeth sharp as needles. “A specialty from- you could say a good friend. They’re called eurydice, funnily enough.”

Aqua freezes.

“What’s so funny about that?” Terra asks, stepping in front of Aqua so he’s a barrier.

“I forgot you’re not the sharpest rock in the canyon,” Hades mumbles, before animating his hands, presenting his words like they’re a marketing technique. “Eurydice, the pride of the forest. A muse, a sprite, a dryad.” He motions quotation marks with his fingers. “‘She’s not like other girls,’ whatever you want to call her. A gold prize.”

It comes to Terra like the dawn. Orpheus’s wife.

“What is she to you?” Aqua asks, defensive.

“Well…” Hades casually places a hand on his hip and relies on the other to tell his story. “The Underworld is a vibrant culture of flora. There’s still some Heartless mucking about in the crevices, little maggots, doing Zeus knows what, but…” He pinches the air with his fingers. “There was a teeny tiny leak, a blemish in the system.” He shrugs. “And she slipped. You want to save her, and I want her back in my perfectly packaged Paradise. We work together and we both win.”

Terra scoffs. “You lost a ghost in the Underworld?”

Hades bites a breathy laugh, flicking lint off his robe, a gross smile stretching across his face like he knows a dirty secret. “My Underworld is a tight machine. No. She went somewhere darker.”

Aqua is the first to speak after the silence. “I see.”

“You see what?” Terra says.

Aqua casts her eyes downward. She usually never breaks eye contact in the presence of an enemy. “She’s in the Realm of Darkness. That’s why I’m connected to her.”

Aqua has often said that she thinks a piece of the Darkness will stay with her until her final day, a single thorn growing out of her heart.

“It’s not a place for the sensitive.” Hades scoffs with false modesty.

This is something no one has the right to ask of her. “We’re not bringing Eurydice back to you,” Terra says.

Hades disappears in a blink, reappearing by Terra’s shoulder, his hand a warm pot on the stovetop. “You, my friend, are the last person to bargain.” He disappears again and bursts into flames by Aqua’s side. “Aren’t Keyblade wielders supposed to keep a world’s balance at the tip of their fingers? There’s only one place everyone ends up in this world. Who says you can take the dead away from me? Where else would they go?”

Aqua won’t give him the merit of a look. She swats his smoke away like it’s a fly.

Hades continues, “You see, the living owe a debt. You borrow life to breathe here for a few short happy years, and when you’re done, you return back to where you came from. And if you borrow, then you owe.” He flashes the teeth. “Therefore, she’s mine.” Hades flicks a finger on Terra’s chest. “You—both of you—have cheated. You’re thieves, you reek of it. Talk about privilege.”

Terra stammers.

“We’ll do it,” Aqua says.

Hades taps all his fingers together. “I’m glad we came to an agreement.”

“We didn’t agree to anything,” Terra says, his eyes begging Aqua for an alternative way to do this.

“Down boy. Your bite is just as intimidating as your bark.” Hades turns over his shoulder. “Oh, and one other thing.” He raises a finger, and addresses Terra directly. “Have you ever worked with ghosts before? Miserable company. They’re mopey, they babble too much about nonsense. Not the guest you want to invite over for dinner. They’re confused, it’s part of their nature. Being connected to one isn’t the most sane habit. If you’re not careful, they’ll infect you with their pain.” Hades winks, and nods toward Aqua. “You might want to keep an eye on her.”

Terra’s heart strikes his chest like a hammer to the blood vessel, and he swallows bile. Aqua doesn’t seem fazed.

“Well,” Hades says, “it’s a long walk down. Stay healthy, drink water, don’t go crazy.” With that, he vanishes for good this time, leaving the wind gliding through the flowers, all looking for someone below.

“She’s nearby,” Aqua says, her voice breaking a silence that doesn’t want to be heard. Like poison to be drunk, denial to be told the truth, there’s no ignoring this. “I can open a door here.”

“You’re really going back?”

“I can’t let her continue to suffer,” she says. “But I won’t put you in danger, either.”

“Wait,” Terra says, getting in her way. “I’m coming with you.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“I don’t expect it to be anything else. Danger doesn’t scare me.” Terra takes her face in his hand. “After everything you’ve been through, you can’t ask me to let you do this alone.”

Aqua opens her mouth as if to refuse but she grimaces. “I admit I would like the company this time.”

Terra’s heart thumps, stroking her cheek. “I’ll never turn my back on you again.”

“A shame. You look taller from behind,” she says, and he snorts.

When she moves away, he feels hollow, a sudden need to hold her again invading his body. He shrugs the feeling off. “I’m texting Ven.” He pulls out his Gummiphone. “He’ll need to open a Door to Light for our return.”

“Yes.”

“Any tips for how to survive?”

Aqua summons her Keyblade and points to the ground. “The Realm of Darkness wants you to feel hopeless and scared. It feeds from your mind.” She looks at him. “You can’t trust what you think or feel. You won’t be able to tell the difference between you or the Darkness.”

“Then how are we supposed to find her and come back if we can’t even think?”

Aqua lifts an elegant shoulder. “You keep your head up. That’s your best defense. The Realm will do many things to make you want to give up, to make you doubt yourself. You have to choose your battles. Even if you feel like you’re being followed, don’t look back. Don’t give in to its tricks.”

It sounds like hell. It feels like a knife to the liver—Aqua has suffered so much. His biggest regret is not having the strength to break out of his prison and do something about it.

“Are you having second thoughts?” Aqua asks.

“Not at all.”

The way she smiles this time makes her look like herself. “You know, I feel better now. Much clearer.”

Terra hopes that’s a sign of sweeter things to come. The smile he gives is weak when she summons a Door to Darkness.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Realm of Darkness is a dirt path in a forest that sprawls under patches of stars, as though someone has taken photos of different skies and pasted them together in a collage. Few lanterns light the way, smokey as if caked in fog. It would be similar to a romantic walk on the mountain in the spring if not for what it really is.

Terra trails close behind Aqua, the cape of her armor bouncing in the air. She jogs with such confidence despite that they have no map and have never been here before—well, Aqua has, but not here. According to her, the Realm of Darkness never stays the same. There’s no path back the way they came.

So far, it’s lacked excitement, a still silence as though this world’s heart has stopped beating.

“How do we find her?” Terra asks, his voice loud enough to make him worry if something hidden behind the trees has heard him.

“We keep going.”

A sudden clank, metal on metal. Terra sprints to her. “What’s going on?”

Aqua has stepped onto a metal surface, a sudden cutoff from the forest like mismatched puzzle pieces forced together, spreading beyond what they can see. When Terra steps on it, the boot of his armor reverberates from his weight.

“I don’t like this,” Aqua says.

The river is black and made of torn iron, shards that jut out like shredded waves frozen in time. Lanterns from broken boats wedge into the collisions, a ship graveyard where they all crashed into each other in a hurricane.

“What now?” Terra asks, hushed.

She turns to face him, her helmet obscuring her expression. “We keep going.”

Their only direction is forward. There’s no compass, no horizon to see where they’re going. They curve around mountains of broken war and cruise ships and melted steel, like hills to climb and descend. Whether they’ve trailed a huge arch and are going backwards, Terra can’t tell.

Then again, Aqua has said there is no backwards in the Realm of Darkness. But what if this river doesn’t have a shore?

“Those aren’t lights,” Aqua warns.

Some of the lanterns bob up and down, blinking.

“Stars,” Terra curses, summoning his Keyblade. Aqua has already conjured hers and is throwing a blast against a group of eyes hiding inside half of a ship, its inner scaffolding exposed like bent needles. The impact combusts.

Heartless swarm up and rain on him. They’re stronger here, these small Shadows more resistant, withstanding his powerful swings when they’d normally be thrown far back.

A huge crash rumbles behind them, and Terra is knocked onto his knees. A ship sinks as its bow breaks off. It sounds like a building caving in.

Aqua grabs his elbow. “Forget it,” she yells over the clamor. They run past hordes of Heartless materializing from the metal as if they’re being born, more and more and more until the sea behind them is a mass of yellow eyes. Terra relies on nothing but his two legs, pushing and pushing them despite the strain to catch up to her. Ships and boats disintegrate, about to swallow them if they can’t find solid ground.

They step onto dirt, a slab of earth suspended in space. They’re blocked by a huge stone gate without walls.

Aqua turns and slices her Keyblade across, light thrusting forward to cut through the first wave of Shadows.

Terra grunts when he jabs his Keyblade, a beam striking the gate in the middle. He summons a keyhole, a plea to enter.

The gate opens.

“Come on!” He grabs her elbow and bolts inside. Terra immediately pushes his weight against the gate, Aqua mimicking the same—a desperate slog at first, his breath hitched and pulsating at his temple, until they build momentum and shut it. At the slam of the door, dust drops from the ceiling and lands on their shoulders.

Behind them is a dim hallway of two choices: left and right. The little light they have here comes from nowhere.

Terra sighs, breathing heavily. The air inside his helmet doesn’t smell fresh. “Well, your heart, your pick.”

Aqua chuckles, her voice muffled. He wishes he could see her smile. “Enjoying your stay?”

“You’re sick.”

“Remember not to get too affected by what you see, Terra.” She holds his shoulder, her glove clunking onto his pauldron. “The Realm will probe your mind until it finds what it can use.”

She leads the way right, her steps kicking up clouds of dust. The entire floor is sand, sinking the sound of their steps. The hall turns left. It turns left again.

Terra can’t shake the feeling that they’re being watched. He eyes the ceiling where the crevices that meet the wall are at their darkest, where he anticipates small, yellow eyes blinking at him.

He thinks he hears something, but shrugs it off.

No, he has heard something. Growling.

It thrums louder and Terra is walking slower, growing a distance between him and Aqua who hasn’t noticed yet.

The growling is coming from behind.

He turns.

There’s nothing.

“Aqua.”

“What is it?”

“I’m hearing an aggressive dog.”

“There are no dogs in the Realm of Darkness.”

“But it’s following us.”

“Trust me, there isn’t anything behind you.” She waves with her hand. “Come on. The Realm wants you to worry. The moment you start to believe it is when your heart begins to falter.”

At another two-way junction, Aqua chooses left—they’ve just gone in a circle. Terra expects to come back to the stone gate—but as though the Realm has heard him and is laughing at his assumptions, the hallway opens up into a path of eight directions. One of them a stairway up, one a stairway down. The opening next door is blocked from a staircase turned upside down, and the one next to that leads to a staircase that twists and leans on its side.

Aqua chooses the way straight ahead, a long uncomplicated hallway.

The hallway turns right. She’s no longer there.

“Aqua!” Terra dashes forward and the hallway turns dark, like the twist of the knob on a lantern, a flame fading.

He turns over and heads back. “Aqua!”

They went left, left, left, straight. All he has to do is trek that backwards.

When Terra arrives at the large expanse of eight directions, Aqua comes in from behind him. “Terra!”

She runs into him when he halts and spreads his arms, their breastplates colliding. “Where did you go?” he asks.

“Down the hall, that’s it.” Her voice trembles. He’ll have to do better to be braver, for her. Aqua pulls away to look up at him. He wishes he could see her eyes. “What did I say about giving in?”

He licks his lips. “Don’t go back.”

Aqua swallows as if to stop a sob. “There’s no going back in this place, Terra. You could have gotten lost. The Realm wants you to doubt yourself.” She nods as if to make a point, her voice thick as if to mask how terrified she is. “Do you understand now?”

No. “We keep going.”

“I’ll stay close to you this time.”

“Please.”

“I-I can’t lose you. Not again.”

“You won’t, I promise.”

She points to a hallway different from the one she chose earlier, and walks by his side this time, step by step. Down this way is brighter, the stone newer, the sand thinning until they step on cobble. The walls shrink into a tight foyer framed by fully lit torches, parchment and paper scattered all over as though a storm blew through a library.

Terra bends to pick some up. They’re all blank.

“Love letters and songs,” Aqua says, reading through empty pages, “that Orpheus wrote to her.” She shakes her head. “The stories I grew up with were so stupid.”

“Which ones are we talking about?”

“Those books I used to read when I was a teenager.”

Terra grimaces. “About true love.”

“I believed them until the end.” She sighs. “They seem so silly now. That you could be in love at first sight, without ever bonding with them—without ever knowing the ties you create with them and how much it pains to have those cut. It’s improbable. How does anyone expect them to be willing to pluck their hearts out of their chests and sew them together like that? How is that supposed to be ‘true,’ or ‘pure?’ The trials they’ve gone through to prove themselves in the name of that love—so small in comparison to some.”

“You mean in comparison to what Orpheus tried to do.”

Aqua swipes her hand over a page to flatten the bends. “I can’t imagine how brave he had to prepare himself to be, and how little he cared for his personal safety. That he would descend so deep into darkness for her. After everything I’ve been through, I could say—that is love. The fairy tales I’ve read don’t come close.”

Terra watches her stack parchment together, tapping the edges so that they align, her movements stiff due to the armor. There are no written words to be read on the pages, but there’s not a single word that could describe the epiphany he’s having. That she is sitting next to him, that there are things neither of them uttered a sound for, that she is the same person who fell to the depths just to save him, that she is not the same child who used to sneer at his essays. That day, he only had a feeling that he was being hugged until he went to sleep, then he woke up twelve years later.

“You love me,” he says, part question, part certainty.

Aqua pauses. Her visor reflects his. “I do. I have for a long time.” She scoffs softly at herself. “You know, the Realm has brought you to me in lucid dreams. Five times. The first three, I told you how I felt. And you smiled. Then you were gone. I got fooled each time.” She hangs her head. “It was the fifth time that it was really you.”

“I remember,” Terra whispers.

“I couldn’t say how I felt, but you took those precious few seconds we had to tell me not to give up. I realized later that I needed that more than saying anything.” She sighs, her breath parched from the helmet. “I never expected to say it again, here, of all places, but now… Now you’re here. And I love you.”

Terra leans forward, bracing her arm, the cusp between her shoulder and neck. He feels the inner padding of his gloves. They can’t take their helmets off, not here, but a swelling of solace fills him. For a moment, he forgets where he is, his imagination only seeing her face, his heart asking to break the metal and touch her.

“Do you have any idea how important you are to me?” he asks.

She breathes like she’s laughing. “I have an inkling.”

He leans his helmet against hers. “With all my heart,” he says.

“I thought so.” She squeezes his gauntlet.

When they get out, the first thing he’ll do is take her in arms.

“I think we’re close,” Aqua says, talking about Eurydice.

They have to see the light of day first. When they get out, the first thing he’ll see is her smile.

“Let’s do it and get out here.”

Beyond the next archway is a new place: a cavern maze, the walls roughed up by raw mineral, crystals glowing pastel colors in the dark. It’s beautiful in its own expression, a small memory of whatever the Realm took and couldn’t digest. The single paths here are disorienting, the walls littered with natural dips and holes to take shortcuts.

The cave opens up to a jagged, rocky clearing, its natural structure much like a coliseum. He and Aqua stand at the top. The boulders cut off a clear sight of the path below, a single star in the sky and a single fig tree at the bottom, its exposed roots dug into a pond. Terra and Aqua descend, the rocks down here taller.

“Prepare yourself,” Aqua says, taking the lead.

Terra summons his Keyblade too, bracing himself for Heartless. A shadow moves near the tree, hiding behind one of the roots.

A surprised shriek comes from the tree, like it’s been woken up, and it shifts. The roots straighten out, the branches curl over and sharpen like claws. Cut through the trunk is the shape of a heart, empty and black inside. No yellow eyes.

“What is that thing?” Terra yells before dodging. The tree slams its branches between him and Aqua.

Terra trips. A tree root chokes his ankle, pulling him from under the dirt.

Aqua doesn’t see it happening. She scrambles and ducks behind a boulder before the earth behind her collapses into a sinkhole. She climbs the boulder and jumps onto the canopy.

The tree rocks viciously to knock her off but she stabs the bark with her Keyblade to hold on. It digs its vines and branches into the ground. A flash of purple lighting cracks the boulders into halves.

Terra cuts himself free. The root shrivels, and the ground it touched caves into nothingness. He dashes, taking fast cover behind boulders. It’s hard to tell if he’s effective since he doesn’t know whether the tree has blind spots.

When roots shoot up to throttle him and fail, they punish the earth instead, ripping away respites and hiding spots. If enough of the dirt sinks, the boulders fall with it.

Terra can only keep running.

The only signs that Aqua is okay are the flashes of light from her Keyblade, spellcasting and waves of reflective blues crushing the tree. Stuck on the canopy, Aqua doesn’t have much room to escape when the ground is collapsing at random.

Terra yells and charges towards the tree, calling upon his Keyblade to transform into his glider. He slams into the roots, all of his offense and magic building up and combusting against the bark.

The tree tumbles and Aqua lets go.

Terra catches her and flies up. He hovers a rock that is still holding on at the edge of a newly formed cliff.

A dark lightning bolt strikes from above and Aqua summons a barrier to protect them.

“It’s her,” Aqua says, straining to keep the barrier intact.

“That can’t be possible.”

“We don’t know what the Darkness can do to the dead. We don’t know anything.” Aqua chokes on her words. “But that’s Eurydice, I know it.”

The tree scratches at nothing and wails, its roots crumbling hard onto the ground with every step it makes. Eurydice sounds like anger, a need to make sure everyone else suffers with her.

“The hole in her trunk, where her heart would be if she wasn’t dead.”

“Terra—”

“Say no more.”

He revs his glider and charges towards the clearing, now a gaping hole sunk down the middle with no bottom. Terra sticks to the cliff sides. Aqua jumps off from the back, high into the sky, waiting for his next move.

Terra lets go and holds on to his Keyblade’s grip. It stretches and transforms into a whip. He slaps one of the branches where it hooks, and slams his fist onto the ground. The tree careens. He keeps pulling, forcing the tree flat against the ground.

From the sky, Aqua points her Keyblade towards the trunk and calls. A beam of light strikes through the heart void, glowing.

The tree shrieks and thrashes. Terra is thrown off and the tree slaps Aqua out of its way. Aqua lands on the side of a cliff, climbing up. The tree stampedes towards her with the motion to crush her.

Aqua yells and yanks herself over, rolling onto her back, pointing her Keyblade up again. Her light blinds this time, a force that shocks the air and pushes everything with swept pressure. As though Aqua has summoned water, Terra is thrown, the currents taking him away.

He lands and rolls. It’s quiet.

His muscles ache and sting. He’ll have bruises but those don’t matter. Terra stumbles when he stands, leaning on a boulder near him. He peers over, praying for the image of Aqua climbing over the hole, but what he sees is a picture from before the nightmare: the clearing back in its original state, as though he has hallucinated everything. The rocky exterior makes it hard for him to notice anyone. If she’s crouching due to pain, if she’s stranded somewhere, knocked out…

His knees give out when he runs, and he tumbles down the hill. Summoning his glider, Terra asks it to carry his slacked weight. There is no puddle at the bottom anymore. He keeps himself up high where he has a vantage point, calling her name. There’s no sight of her.

“I won’t be fooled. You’ll take me to her,” he tells the Realm. He scans. No sign of her. What if she’s buried beneath the earth...

A pale glow flickers between rocks.

He drops.

Aqua isn’t here. In her place is a green, ghostly apparition of a woman in a simple, flowy dress that allows for dancing, her long hair swaying to zephyr. Terra doesn’t need to ask for her name. His voice croaks. “Where is she?”

“Of whom do you speak?” Eurydice says. The ghost has no voice but a loud breath, as though she is whispering right into his ear.

“Aqua!” he calls but he gets no answer. No sound of the pebbles crumpled by her bootsteps, nor the clank of armor.

“Ah,” Eurydice sighs. “The one who looks like a naiad. A water nymph.”

“Do you know where she is?”

“In the labyrinth.”

Terra turns over his shoulder and starts up the hill. Where is the entrance they used to get here?

“If you enter the labyrinth, you will lock her inside, Keybearer.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” His helmet feels tight. “How do you know about Keyblades?”

“The body is an entrapment, a vessel designed to define concepts that we can’t understand. What we call prayers, offerings, angels, the Light, the fountain of the gods, Keyblades, Kingdom Hearts, Paradise, Mount Olympus—all bear the same resemblance depending on the language we use. Without a body, I am not burdened by any of those barriers.” She holds her hands together with reverence. “Your armor glimmers like a star.”

“Can you feel her then? Is she hurt?”

“She is with you.”

That’s the same thing people say to him about Eraqus. Your Master will always be with you, no matter where you are. You just need the faith to know he’s there.

I’m sure he’s proud of you.

I’m sure he knows how much you love him. He’s with you.

“Aqua!” Terra bolts into a run, picking whatever direction because this clearing is a circle and there is no exit. He’ll have to break one open. His helmet presses on the pulse in his neck. He’s losing oxygen. He’s gasping. He’s removing his helmet, collapsing to his knees, yelling at the most his lungs could give him, now that his voice is no longer muffled by metal. “Aqua!”

His throat throbs.

“No panic, no haven for panic, Keybearer.”

Terra stares at the dirt under him—cracked from drought, a single pebble and a patch of grass. “You should have taken me,” he wheezes.

The ground rumbles and he snaps up, dying to see if it’s her. A giant hand pounds towards him, attached to a giant body with beedy yellow eyes and tentacles for a face. A Darkside, towering over him, watching him like it’s going to grant a wish.

“Keybearer,” Eurydice warns.

The Darkside digs its fingers into the dirt like the roots of a tree. A black puddle opens up a pathway for the sprawl of eyes to crawl out.

Terra would summon his Keyblade but he’s slow and tired. Numb. His skin is exposed to the Realm, and it seeps into him. It lulls him, it quiets him. There’s no sanity better than the world the mind makes up.

The Darkside grabs him.

Terra is tired, watching for a hint of blue when he sees black.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Terra.

“Aqua.”

Terra wakes submerged in an ocean. He reaches for her but grabs air.

He’s gently sinking.

So he’s lost her. He’s failed at his duty of protecting someone who needs his help. This is why Aqua is stronger than him. Terra could never survive in a place like this, he could never withstand twelve years of this torture.

“Aqua, I’m so sorry.” He wants to cry but he can’t. The Realm won’t let him, anesthetizing the fall of tears.

What is in the ocean with him? A monster he can’t see? Will it have teeth? Will it swallow him? Or will it watch him float here, waiting for him to turn so he could become one with it? Terra could let go here—

—but a faint glow hovers near, like breath to a limp body, like a light at the exit. There’s still time and a chance. If he can open his eyes, then Aqua could, wherever she is.

Eurydice watches the amoebas in the water, floating by herself.

Terra swims to her.

“‘Twasn’t a long wait,” she whispers when he approaches.

“I’m sorry for turning my back on you,” he tells her. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

Eurydice smiles at him. She looks sickly, hollowed cheeks down to the lines of her skull. But if she was healthy, she would be the beauty that captivated people in the forest.

Terra takes her wrist and gravity takes them. They gently land on solid ground, in the black, in the middle of nothing. Endless dark, endless shadow, endless lack of everything.

��We can’t go anywhere without Aqua. We have to find her first.” Though Terra doesn’t know where he is or which direction he should take.

“We are everywhere, she is nowhere.”

“What does that mean, though? She isn’t here? Then where is she?”

“Below. Nowhere and the end. At the beginning, where you can’t see.”

Terra jerks forward to beg, but a ghost is the last person to ask for answers. He trembles.

“You have a kind face,” Eurydice says. “The bards would have sung in honor of you.”

That’s no consolation. Terra sobs but it’s dry.

“Beware, Keybearer.”

He hears the sloshing of water. His ankles are sunk under.

If he despairs, the Darkness will take him. If he stays calm, he’s betraying her.

“Aqua, what do I do?”

“I called to Lady Aqua because I saw her Light,” Eurydice says, nodding slowly. “The only star in the dark. I would trust her choice, always. I believe in the Fates.” She brings her hand to her chest. “I believe she brought me you.”

The truth stings, a slap to the face, the swallow of a knife, the burn of the tongue with a lighted match. He can’t bear it, but he has to. Aqua would trust him with anything.

“I…” He is such a horrible person, looking at the face of the needy and the hurt but thinking about someone else. He can’t do it. He has to. “I was supposed to hold her when we got out.”

“We were to be married.”

Terra feels as though a pail of water was dumped on him. He takes a hard look at Eurydice, at how she’s trying to warn him with bulging eyes, distorting. Ghosts are emotional. “What happened to you?”

“I died. Vipers are the most unpleasant.”

Terra doesn’t want to ask, afraid of where this conversation will go. “And Orpheus?”

She brightens up, washed over by nostalgia. “He came for me. With his gift of song, he moved Hades enough to agree to be charitable. Hades granted me freedom so long as Orpheus accepted the terms.”

Of course, Hades and his contracts.

Eurydice’s face ashens more than it possibly can. “I was to follow. Orpheus was to lead me to the sunlit earth, so long as he did not look back at me while I was in the dark.” She pauses, as though her lips are sewn together. Talking about this hurts her. “So Orpheus led with much enthusiasm. So much at peace. I was to finally be with my beloved again, to smell the pomegranates and taste the olives.

“Love is powerful but Death more so. Every step was a moment to rethink. He could not hear me behind him, for I was a mere shade. Orpheus could not trust Hades. I could feel his anticipation, his desperate need to hold me dearly, his doubt that he was being played.”

“I can’t blame him.”

“At the end, right as the light was about to touch us, Orpheus lost his faith. He looked back to see my face.” Eurydice hugs herself. “I gave him my farewell and kind regards, then I was whisked away, back into the Underworld.”

“I’m so sorry.” Terra swallows, not liking what this is supposed to mean for him. “Aqua would have chosen to help you.”

“Will you set me free?”

“Yes, of course but—” He inhales. “How could I leave her?”

The look on Eurydice’s face stops him. “I did what was asked of me. I followed him. I kept close. I was loyal. I spoke to him though he could not hear me. And yet he turned and tore us apart. I have yet to understand what I did wrong to let him doubt me.”

“He didn’t doubt you.”

“Then why hesitate to trust Lady Aqua?”

Like a knife to the throat, Terra falls to his knees and grips at his chest, the guilt inside so heavy and thick that he wants to rip his armor off and cut it open, dig it all out so he could finally breathe.

If she were here, Aqua would have told him to save Eurydice. There’s no denying that.

“I’m sorry,” he says, hoping Aqua could hear him. “I’d give you my whole heart if it meant you were here.” He swallows. “I’m so sorry. I’ll be back, just wait for me.” He doesn’t want to stand up, for that would mean that he’d have to walk. But he tells himself that there must be ways around this. There must be an exception, a line in the fine print. “Wait for me, I’ll come to you. I swear with every will I have to live.”

Terra stands. He summons his helmet. When he wears it, he finally cries, soft tears that feel warm then cool, muted because they’re delayed.

“Okay,” he tells Eurydice. “Let’s go.”

He wades across the water, ripples that fan out and reflecting light that isn’t there.

Eurydice floats by his side. “I’m grateful. The vipers are the most unpleasant.”

Terra stops a chuckle. “Yeah, you told me.” Repetition is a symptom for the eldritch, an obsession with what life was. Eurydice deserves so much better. “Do you have to go back to Hades?”

“Orpheus is with him. Once we reunite, we will walk the Underworld together.”

“But it’s a prison.”

Eurydice glances at him. “Man and god are the same. They associate death with misery and see the Underworld as nothing else. But we don’t see what you see.”

“The thought of Hades hating his job is satisfying.”

“He makes for an upsetting neighbor.”

Terra scoffs.

“But I shall be content. Death is powerful but Love more so.”

Terra doesn’t know how to respond, but it spells for him a kind of peace. The Realm numbs everything it touches. As long as they play by the rules, it’s not so bad. Aqua is the only balm he’d need.

“How shall we escape?”

“Ven—my best friend—is waiting on the other side. You see that light?” Ahead of them, far in the distance, is a star. “He has a door open for us.”

“But we’ve been walking for so long and yet it does not come closer. Are you not looking forward to seeing him?”

“Of course I am.” Terra slows to a stop. The water has reached to his waist.

Eurydice studies him with sadness. “You mean to stay here.”

Terra doesn’t answer Eurydice’s remark. “I mean to see you free and happy.” He holds out his hand and she takes it.

Nothing is truly ever following Terra here, for the Darkness wants him to think so. So he will stay, walk forward and walk far without a map or a compass. Eventually, he’ll have to cross paths with her. There is no other place he’d want to go, and any world without her is a world behind him. With that vow to himself, the star finally comes close, the black fading into gray.

“Ven?” Terra calls.

“I have always wondered what it would be like to cross over,” Eurydice says.

Heavy, loud footsteps approach them. Ven appears in the light, in a box colored in white, his armor worn. “Terra? Finally, I’ve been—” He jerks his head towards Eurydice’s direction, the sharp rabbit ears of his helmet tilting. He leans forward as if to peer inside. He does not have a reflection in the water. “Where is Aqua?”

“We are everywhere, she is nowhere,” Eurydice says.

“You don’t see her?” Terra asks, his voice brittle. A tiny part of his heart was hoping he was wrong.

“Dude,” Ven says, “I can barely see you. You’re like an outline.”

“That’s proof enough.”

“Such lies,” Eurydice says.

“What is the ghost talking about?” Ven asks.

“It’s okay, Ven,” Terra says. “I’m going to find Aqua.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“She’ll never forgive me if you follow.” Terra hangs his head. “Please don’t ask me to leave her.”

“That’s not—”

“I’m not afraid of the Realm of Darkness.”

Eurydice turns to Terra. “Such bravery yet you are frightened to cross the threshold for her. Is it natural that faith betrays you? Don’t do this to her. Don’t punish her.”

Ven looks at her, looks at Terra, looks at her.

Terra says, “Once I find her, I’ll be okay.” He moves to turn.

Eurydice holds his shoulder. “Many don’t know how to love. They only know the fall, and they fall, waiting for peace to replace the ecstasy and despair. But it will not come if you do not beckon it. May you listen to your heart?”

His heart aches.

Ven grabs his forearm. “I’m going to listen to the freaky lady. She knows more than you.”

“Ven—”

“I can’t lose both of you. We’ll figure out an action plan, and”—Ven uses all his weight and both of his hands to try to pull Terra over—“you’re coming with me.”

“I can’t leave her here.”

“We’re not! Come on, man, she’s strong.”

“Step forward with me. The vipers are most unpleasant,” Eurydice says.

Terra holds onto the doorframe. The sun hits his gloved fingers, baking them. Aqua, what do I do?

Terra, please.

That’s Aqua’s voice, far away. For the Darkness wants him to think nothing is following him.

“You promise me we’ll come back?” Terra asks Ven.

“Of course. Anything for her.”

Terra doesn’t sob when he wants to. He doesn’t make a decision—he leaps, stepping forward into the light. Eurydice follows.

But a heavy ton, the Darkness, drags him back. Hands from the water grab his cape into bunches and pull on his neck. They hold onto his legs and bend his knees, desperate, like beggars that need his help, need the stars that glimmer in his armor.

One hand grabs his forearm, metal on metal, like it’s telling him not to forget something.

Terra gasps.

He grabs that hand and throws himself forward with a yell, ripping away from the Darkness begging him to stay, knocking Ven out of his balance, and pulling her out.

Terra lands on his back and hears her gasp and whimper out of shock, relieved. He throws his helmet off.

“Aqua.”

Aqua’s blue armor stares at the grass while she takes in the scene, her sobs controlled and hushed.

Terra pulls her helmet off to look at her face, stained with tears and tired smiles. “Aqua.”

“You didn’t hear me?” she asks, crying quietly. “No one heard or saw me, I was there the entire time.”

“I’m an idiot.” Terra weeps with her. He dispels his armor and touches her pauldron to dismiss hers. He holds her tightly. She’s warm and sweaty, small in comparison to him, folded into his chest like she fits perfectly. “Call me an idiot, I deserve it.”

Aqua’s cries tremble into laughter as she buries her face in his neck, twisting his suspenders in her fists. Terra lets her weight pull him onto the grass. “That girl was right. You smell good.”

“What are we talking about now?” Ven removes his helmet and brushes through his hair. Terra is so happy to see that chubby face. “Everything’s so confusing.”

“These girls have been chasing Terra. They’re harpies.” She looks up at him and smirks. “I don’t think they’d be pleased if they saw us like this.”

Terra chuckles into her hair. “I don’t care.”

“Wait,” Ven says, scoffing. “Now we’re going to be murdered by rabid fangirls? Ugh, Terra, why are you always inviting trouble? We don’t need it.” He slams his helmet back on. “Stay here, I’ll scout to see if it’s safe. I’m kicking your ass when we get back home.”

That’s fine. Terra will hold onto Aqua here, stroke his thumb on her cheek, wipe her hair off of her face, massage his hand over her exposed back, under the straps. It’s overcast, the clouds a respite.

Flowers named eurydice watch over them, their anthers hanging close.

“She’s okay,” Aqua whispers, sighing. Her body relaxes. “Thank you.”

Terra kisses her forehead and brings her waist closer. His star in the darkness. She blinks from behind blotted clouds.

#terraqua #terra #aqua #terraqua week #kingdom hearts fanfiction #orpheus #eurydice #AHHHHHH omg i finally finished this monster #the longest piece in the collection for sure #my fic

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crunchy-pavement · 3 years ago

Text

Deep Inside - Fnaf SB AU

Part 2

“Sun, her heartbeat is slow, but it’s still there.”

“I hope she’ll be okay. There was a lot of blood…”

“No, I am not touching the bag. That’s her privacy, Sun. No, I don’t care if it’s glowing red and purple!”

“Oh? She’s waking up, we may have to hide, I don’t want to scare her.”

I woke to a strange, grey empty room. With a surge of panic, I bolted straight upright and looked around for my satchel. It was lying on a desk by the pile of merchandise and scraps I found I was lying on. I pushed myself up and dashed to the desk to grab it, relaxing only when I realised the glow is still there, though now it has flecks of red swirling through the usual vivid purple. You’re finally awake.. I was afraid the moon thing was going to kill you or open the satchel to find me! Are you okay? I noticed my eye and chest had been bandaged under my clothes and remembered the purple world with the white rabbit with those red eyes and the black rabbit who seemed like he was dripping with those terrifying purple eyes.

I ripped the bandage off my eye with a wince of pain and touched the now empty socket in horror. He.. he ripped it out with that purple goop. Your scar.. it’s also purple.. but at least I can still communicate. That thing though… it’s trying to block your mind. We have to go. I pulled my satchel over my head and settled it beside my hip. I feel fine.. Circe, where are we? I looked at the internal area sent. We were in a room next to the main lobby of the pizzaplex. I opened the door in the far corner of the room and stepped out to the giant room with an awed gaze. This was abruptly interrupted by a booming voice from the balcony above me, “Who wants candy?” Shit, that’s Chica! Where do I go? Go to the pizzaplex entrance and leave! It’s not worth it staying here anymore. I quickly got to the turnstiles at the entrance and climbed over them.

Suddenly an announcement started on the speakerphones overhead. “Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizzaplex is now closed. Initiating nighttime protocols.” Shit. Before I could do anything else, the robotic shutter had begun to descend over the doors to the pizzaplex. I sprinted towards them as fast as I could, but it’s too late. I reached the doors just as they shut completely, and started banging against them angrily. No no no what now!? Oh no, someone’s- “No no wait! I’m still here!” I whipped around to see a boy of around my age running from the direction of another set of red doors. He stopped when he saw me standing at the closed doors. “Um.. hello? Are you.. okay?” He’s not going to hurt you, Lani.. I think we can trust.

I recoiled a little as he slowly approached me. Circe, connect our minds, I just need to read his thoughts. I reached down with my mind and connected with my soul. While still staring at him, I pulled into his mind… Glad I’m not the only one stuck here.. She’s acting a little strange… That satchel she has is glowing purple, should I be worried?.. Her left eye is gone… I gotta tell Freddy there’s another trapped child.. I shifted a little, taking in what we heard from the boy’s inner thoughts. He’s with Freddy… I’m not sure about this, what if this means trouble? The boy looked a little confused and upset, taking a few steps back. Suddenly a voice blasted out from a little orange watch on the boy’s wrist. “Gregory? What is going on?”

I recognised the voice of the main star animatronic of the business with a jolt of terror. The boy, Gregory, spoke back into the watch. “The doors closed, Freddy. I didn’t make it in time, but there’s also another girl who also got trapped.” I perked up. “Hey, I have a name! It’s Lani!” Gregory looked at me for a moment, then added, “Her name is Lani..” “Okay, I can get back to you and, uh, Lani in the daycare, do you still have that pass we found?” As Gregory continued his chat with Freddy, I turned my attention back to the glowing soul in the folds of my satchel. I knew I couldn’t pull her out of there, not in front of Gregory. I believe we can trust both Gregory and the bear. I know we need their help to get out of here, you don’t want to admit it but we can’t figure this out on our own, no matter what power we have. I realised Gregory was done and was now looking at me expectantly.

We just stared at each other for a while before Gregory spoke up. “Soo.. um… My name is Gregory!” He bounced back on his heels and scratched his neck awkwardly. I chose my words quickly and profoundly. “I am.. Lani.” I caught Gregory smiling a little now at my voice now that it’s softer. “Well, Freddy says we can meet him at the daycare.. I’m not so sure about going there.. but he says he can help us both out of here. Are you going to come with me?” I stiffened a little and decisively said, “Let me discuss it first.” I could tell Gregory wants to say “With who?” but I turned away before he could ask.

I reached into my satchel and finally gently pulled out Circe, a small, luminescent purple cat-like creature with a glowing yellow heart across its chest. It was good to finally be able to actually see it again without having to hide it. Should I go with him, Circe? I still don't know if I can trust him.. We’ve seen into his mind, I believe he speaks the truth to you.. He’s with Freddy, though.. Remember what happened when Roxanne spotted me? Yes, and she didn’t chase after you. Trust your own soul, Lani. I placed Circe back into the satchel and with a sigh, I turned back to Gregory.

“Well, I don’t think I have anywhere else to go, so yes, I will go with you, but I won’t trust you yet.” What was she talking to? She wasn’t even talking? That purple glow.. well anyways, at least she’ll follow. Gregory flashed a smile and jumped up a little. “Okay, then! Well, I have the daycare pass, the entrance is on the balcony! I think Chica is gone.” He started off towards the now deserted stairs, and I reluctantly followed him with a glance back at the closed doors of the pizzaplex. Well, guess I had to get used to him, then. I patted the side of the satchel, and Circe played the little melody I always loved hearing to calm down. Gregory paid no attention to the music and started up the stairs. He can’t hear it, only you.

The interior of the pizzaplex daycare was dim, and the walls were covered with artworks of the sun animatronic and the moon animatronic Circe mentioned that had found me and moved me to the room earlier after that strange incident. I quickened my pace to match Gregory’s as I passed a cluster of toilet blocks. We approached a big shutter door with a mural of suns and moons painted on it, the entrance to the daycare. You can find a security badge down in the daycare to let Freddy in to help you. I pulled it up with ease, much to the surprise of Gregory, and it opened to a very bright, colourful big room. The left wall was lined with party rooms with themes of all the main animatronics, and there was a balcony overlooking a massive, colourful play area, with two giant play structures and a few ball pits.

I walked past Gregory and approached the rainbow slide labelled ‘SLIDE INTO FUN’. “We need to use the slide to get to the security desk. There should be a security badge there which will let Freddy in.” And how would she know that!? I pulled myself into a sitting position at the entrance to the slide, and gave myself a push start. Swiftly gliding down, the slide upended me into a big ball pit at the end. I shovelled out of the way as Gregory entered the ball pit a moment later. Above you! Quick! I looked up to see a little platform in the shape of a castle, out of which a golden and red animatronic jester appeared. “Hoohoho!” And he did a crappy twirl and dived into the balls. Oh shit.

Gregory suddenly let out a scream as the animatronic jumped up from beneath the ball pit and grabbed him. “Hellooooo! New friend! You’re sure up late, are we having a slumber party!?” I shrunk back as he clambered out of the ball pit, still holding on to Gregory. I didn’t think he saw me, but I had to save Gregory. I hauled myself onto the coloured, matted floor, still holding on to my satchel, and the sun animatronic turned around, spotting me.

“Well hello! Another new friend! I didn’t see you there!” He set Gregory down and he immediately ran back towards me. The animatronic seemed confused, his plates twitching every now and then. I touched the connection again to see. Moony, is that the child you saved earlier? The one with the pointed ears and the strange glowing satchel? With one eye? I was startled to also hear another mind voice. Yes, that’s her. At least she is okay, but I admit, there is something strange about her… Well, she’s with another new friend and they both seem scared of me..

They have connected minds, him and the moon one. I jolted back to the present as the sun cautiously approached us, his bubbly movements now slowed a little, but the spring in his step was still inevitably there. “Well, we can fingerpaint, tell stories, drink Fizzy Faz until our heads exPLODe and then stay up all night!” I straightened a little and asked, “Um, could we get to the security desk? We need a security badge to get to.. where we need to be.” I heard the other mind sharply send Do not let them turn the lights off! Something is not right and I may be overwhelmed and try to hurt them because they’re not asleep! The sun animatronic suddenly started to panic and blocked the way to the desk.

"Nononono friends, that place is off limits! You're gonna get us in trouble!" I quickly sidestepped him and started towards the desk. "We just need the security badge, then we'll go, there's no need to make a fuss-" I stopped when I saw the same white rabbit from earlier, her red eyes gleaming, holding a board with a red button on it. "Good luck with Moon, you're gonna need it, little children.." And she pressed the button. “What are you doing!?”,I screamed.

All at once, the daycare is plunged into darkness. My night vision told me Gregory was next to me, and the sun animatronic looked like he was clawing at his plates, screaming. "I warned you, I WARNED YOU!!" I shut my eyes tight as the growling ceased. Quick! Keep your eyes open! The sun animatronic was gone, and in its place was a deep blue and white animatronic with stars on its pants and hat, and a faceplate painted like the moon, with two glowing red optics. "It's past your b-bbedtime. Y-y-you must be PUNISHED!"

One of the moon animatronic's eyes abruptly turned a sky blue colour. "Kids, go! RUN!!" I grabbed Gregory's hand and started running towards the giant play structures. I looked back and caught something from the moon's mind like Sun, there's something trying to take over my coding! I felt Circe's mind in concern. I can help him, I just need to get closer to get to whatever it is. But Circe, I can’t let him or Gregory see you! I can’t risk it. I dropped down and crawled into the narrow play structure entrance. I heard the moon animatronic chuckle as he entered the play structure after us. As Gregory swerved off to the right, I continued down the path from the entrance, silently praying it wouldn’t run into a dead end.

But my thoughts were unwillingly granted, and I shoved myself around a corner, with the moon animatronic not far behind, only to find I had run into an end of the tunnel. "Nighty niiighht!" Shit, shit SHIT!! The moon animatronic comes into view and starts crawling towards me with a quickening pace. No no no no!! Get out of my HEAD!! I shove myself against the end mat, trapped like a mouse. As I started to panic, I felt Circe's light grow from the satchel and my vision filled with the familiar vivid purple. Our minds reach out together with our soul connection, and I close my eyes.

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nicksreggies · 4 years ago

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@jorian-is-my-new-obsession asked for “nick is reggie’s neighbor and is very confused as to why he’s playing his bass in the rain” from this list

tagging: @i4akane @pamesjatterson @sylphrenas @confused-theatre-puppy

anyways

Reggie wouldn’t pick up the phone.

Nick sighed as the call went to a voicemail again, glancing out of his window and trying to make out any shapes in the thundering rain.

Tire tracks graced the pavement of the street, left by Mr. Peters, who had sped out of his driveway, wheels on his car spinning, twenty minutes earlier.

The grass of the shared space between their yards was already flat and muddy, worn from countless run-overs.

Arguments were not a new experience in the Peters household.

Pacing the length of his room, Nick dialed Reggie’s number.

The sound of a dial tone filled his ear.

The blond marched downstairs and yanked a black raincoat off of a hook by the front door, pulling the hood over his head and slipping on a pair of old sneakers.

He left through the back door, wincing when his foot landed in a mud puddle and soaking his sock with squishy, cold liquid.

The space between the Peters and Danforth-Evans homes were small, but between a raging storm and the slippery lock on the gate (Nick’s father had insisted they installed it), it felt like it took Nick two hours to reach Reggie’s front door.

Nick gazed through the nearby window, fogged up from the rain, taking note of Mrs. Peters, asleep on the living room couch, empty cups stacked on the coffee table nearby and a bottle of whiskey uncapped in her hand.

Splinters of a painting laid in the hallway, an empty space on the eggshell white wall where a family portrait used to hang.

This was a bad one.

Nick’s hand drifted toward the doorknob. Perhaps Mr. Peters had left the door open in his haste to leave, and he could sneak upstairs to Reggie’s room, to check if he had barricaded himself in his bedroom.

He grasped at the metal, but before the lock could click a stream of pounding, loud bass music came bursting from the garage.

The first thing that ran through Nick’s mind when he saw him was that Reggie was going to get hypothermia.

Or an electric shock.

Either worked.

“Oh, hey, Nick.” The bassist greeted, his voice nearly drowned out by the rain.

“Don’t hey Nick me,” Nick took note of the amp, its extension cord stretching the length of the driveway, before marching over and pulling it out of the socket. “You promised you would come over if it got too bad.”

Reggie’s protests were muffled by the water, still pounding down in sheets around them as Nick reemerged from the (now quiet) garage.

“I didn’t want to bother you?” The sentence came out like a question and Nick rolled his eyes at the brunette.

He took the bass from Reggie’s outstretched palms, their fingers brushing together, warmth flowing between them before Nick dropped his arm, not missing the blush on the other’s cheeks as he turned and slipped the guitar onto its stand.

“Reg, that would never bother me. Your safety comes first, remember? That’s what we agreed on.”

It had been a quiet and rainy November night (not unlike the one they were enduring right now) when Reggie’s parents had argued for the first time, doors slamming and yells ripping from throats.

In the dead of night, a sobbing Reggie had appeared at Nick’s front door and asked if he could sleep there, his face pale and a bag tossed over one shoulder.

Ryan and Chad, Nick’s fathers, had been quick to accept, ushering the boy into their home and into dry clothes.

Neither Nick nor his guest got any sleep that night, instead watching Captain America until the sun rose on the living room couch.

They must have downed ten bags of microwavable popcorn.

“You’ll come over if you feel unsafe again, please?” Nick asked when it was time for Reggie to leave.

Reggie promised he would.

“I know, I know.” The present-day Reggie carded his fingers through his soaked hair, following Nick to the warmth of the Danforth-Evans garage and accepting the baby blue towel his neighbor produced from a cabinet.

Nick, a towel of his own slung around his shoulders, kicked off his muddy sneakers and waited for Reggie to do the same to his boots.

Neither of them said anything for a moment, hovering in the mudroom until Nick spoke up. “Do you...want to talk about it-”

“No, not really.”

“Okay.” Silence. “Wanna watch The First Avenger instead?”

“I would love to.”

Ten minutes later, the boys were lying on the couch while Captain America played in the background, laughing and clutching at their sides, (“Look at that twerp! He’s such a shrimp though.””Yeah, until he turns hot.””Turns hot?! NICK!”) .

Nick still didn’t know what had happened earlier that morning, and he wasn’t planning on bugging Reggie about it. Not until he was ready.

But for the time being, all he needed was this.

This was perfect.

#i don't hate this surprisingly #nickinald #nick danforth-evans #nick jatp #jatp nick #reggie peters #jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp fic #request #jatp fic request #tw parents fighting #tw parents arguing #parents fighting tw #parents arguing tw #elsie writes

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13uswntimagines · 4 years ago

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Badass to Mushball (Alpha!Ash x Alpha!Reader x Omega!Ali)

Request: Ash and Reader are alphas and Ali is their omega and they go out and Ali gets threatened by someone, so her mates come and save her

Author’s Note: So a couple of things my dudes. The TJ that is mentioned is TJ Dillashaw, who is an MMA fighter in the UFC’s bantamweight division. Most fighters participate in Weight cutting, where their every day (walk around) weight is much higher than the cutoffs for the division they fight in. This means that they lose lots of weight (usually in water) days before the fight to weight-in, and then they gain it back overnight to go into the fight with a distinct advantage. I hope you enjoy this! hit me up with requests, questions or if you have questions!

Ali tucked herself closer to Ashlyn as the entered the crowded bar, nosing her pulse point in an attempt to drown out the assault of pheromones that met them the second they walked through the door. Ashly rubbed her back, trying to soothe her mate. They were always on edge when you weren’t with them. Between your anger leaking through your mating bond and the insane amount of pheromones in the club that Kelley has chosen, both women were a little jumpy.

Ashlyn placed a kiss on her little one's forehead, before craning her neck to find the table she was sure her teammates had commandeered. She smiled and nodded when she met Alex’s eyes, using the hand on Ali’s back to guide her towards the table.

“Hey, Krashlyn is here!!!” Kelley cheered, leaning drunkenly into her alpha. Alex rolled her eyes at the woman, still wrapping her arm around her waist. Ali waved as Ash settled them down into the booth.

“Where’s the big bad Alpha?” Alex asked the women and Megan snorted at the implication. Sure you were a big bad UFC fighter, but around Ali and Ash, you turned into a puppy.

“She said that her fight press conference is running longer than she thought,” Ash murmured, running a hand up and down Ali’s back and pumping out her calming scent. Crowded bars had a habit of throwing off the omegas delicate systems. Ali wasn’t your typical omega, having dealt with some very dominant and assholey alphas on the pitch, but Ash’s alpha instincts wouldn’t let anything mess with her omega.

“The champ still running his mouth?” Kelley smirked at the pair, remembering what happened the last time your opponent talked shit.

“Yeah, he was saying some stuff about us before we left to meet you,” Ali shrugged. You had a bit of a reputation for being stoic before a fight, and making the people you faced pay in the cage. She did not doubt that you would make TJ eat his words when you finally got to beat his face in (as you so lovingly referred to it). He was trying (and failing) to get under your skin, and she was sure he would regret his efforts later.

“Stuff? I wouldn’t call him talking about her taking it up the ass stuff,” Alex rolled her eyes. It was supposed to be the ultimate insult to an alpha. A way to question their dominance, and with one of your mates being an alpha it was an insult you heard rather often. You were secure in your mates and how powerful of an alpha you were. You loved Ashlyn and Ali, and that didn’t make you wear. It made you stronger.

“And she didn’t blow up at him?” Kelley asked squinting at the pair. You had tried to explain how the mind games in the UFC worked, and she still didn’t understand. If someone called you a bitch, weren’t you supposed to defend yourself? That’s what you had used to justify almost starting a brawl with Connor Mcgregor at the weigh-ins before your last fight because of an off-handed comment.

“She said something about saving it for the cage,” Ashlyn shrugged. You were very tactical and you knew how to best deal with each opponent you faced. Getting riled up would only egg TJ on further. At least that’s what you said when they asked you the same thing.

“Isn’t she afraid of that making her look weak,” Megan questioned, leaning forward at the table, glad that she was a beta and that she didn’t have to deal with the pheromones and dominance battles that the two other bearings brought.

“After what she did to the last guy who talked shit, I don’t think so,” Ali snorted, remembering your very impressive 5-second flying knee knockout.

“But like just between us, is she as much of a badass outside the cage as she is inside?” Kelley asked, her smirk aiding when she saw the blush bloom across Ashlyn’s face. Your bedroom preference was no one else’s business but your own.

“Kelley, you’ve met her. Several times,” Ali huffed, shoring uncomfortable in her seat.

“Yeah, but like, I don’t follow you guys into the bedroom,” Kelley laughed, ignoring her Alpha’s warning glare.

“I think that’s my cue to go get our drinks. Whiskey on the rocks?” Ali grumbled, standing and gesturing towards the crowded bar.

“You know it, babe,” Ash winked, patting her omega’s butt as she left, casually scenting her so no alphas got any ideas.

“What’s a little omega like you doing ordering a glass a wine and a whiskey straight?” The alpha’s smell met her before she saw him, and unlike her mate’s scents, there was nothing soothing or arousing about it. It didn’t hold a candle to their dominant pheromones.

“Not interested,” She said dismissively, waving him off and turning back to the beta bartender. The oblivious alpha took a step closer to her, so his front was pressed against his back.

“Oh come on baby omega,” He said in what she assumed was his most seductive voice, nosing her shoulder. Her inner omega growled in disapproval. The only people who had the right to call her that and touch her there were her mates.

“Don’t call me that,” She hissed, jerking away from him.

“Then don’t act like a whiny little bitch and I won’t. I’m trying to be sweet with ya,” The alpha growled, cupping the back of her neck. She tensed at the contact, his finger grazing your mating bite that adorned her neck.

“I already told you, I’m not interested,” She spat, turning away from the man, and standing to face him. She tilted her head to the side slightly, making her two mating marks even more visible. Though she was sure he had already smelt her mates all over her. The alpha’s features darkened and he took a dangerous step towards her.

“Listen here,” He growled low, and not nearly as dangerous and dominant as she knew a growl could be.

“Whoa there, I think you need to take your hand off my mate,” Ali relaxed at Ash’s calming voice. Her scent wrapped around her like a blanket. She stepped backward into Ashlyn’s arms. The other alpha rolled his eyes.

“You wanna try and play that card? I’m not fucking falling for it. Find your own hookup,” He glared at Ashlyn, stepping forward and grabbing Ali’s wrist and releasing a puff of dominant pheromones. Pheromones that were weakly demanding their submission.

“I don’t need to find a hookup, take your hand off my mate,” Ashlyn rumbled, releasing her own very dominant scent. A sick smirk stretched across the alpha’s face, enjoying the reaction he could elicit.

“Well if that’s the way you wanna play it, I could make you both very happy. Show you what a real alpha is like,” His voice turned cocky again, winking at the women, not noticing the presence making her way behind him.

“Mm, no thanks,” Ashlyn scrunched her face up in disgust, pulling Ali behind her.

“Now, with a little firm guidance I think you two will be perfect,” The other alpha smirked, looking Ali and Ashlyn over. He took a step forward placing a hand on Ashlyn’s shoulder and releasing a sickening puff of his weak scent.

A loud growl sounded from behind the alpha, a dominant wave of angry pheromones wrapping around them.

“I believe the ladies said no, and I suggest you remove your hand before you lose it,” You hissed, stepping up behind the man and clamping your hand on his shoulder. A low and dangerous rumble starting in your chest. You were not in the mood to play. You could fear the frustration leaking though your bond, and your alpha was pissed. Demanding that you show this asshole that he was way off base.

You were already in a bad mood because you had to deal with a jackass champion. Walking up to this scene had just been the crap icing on top of the shit cake. Your fists clenched as you tried to control your inner alpha, who demanded you destroy this man.

“Who the fuck are you?” He asked whipping around to face your towering form.

“That real alpha you mentioned,” you snarled, your lip curling. You knew your mates could handle themselves, but your alpha couldn't and wouldn’t tolerate some asshat touching her mate.

The alpha pressed out his own scent, calling for your submission, and you laughed at his attempt.

“Get your pathetic ass out of here,” You growled, stepping toe to toe with the man, a vicious smirk making its way across your features.

Your body reacted before your brain registered what was happening, the fighter in you taking over this interaction and shoving your very angry alpha back into its cage in your brain. You blocked his very sloppy punch, twisting his arm behind his back, and pulling him close to your chest. He yelped in pain as you made the arm lock as tight as you could without ripping his shoulder out of socket.

“I’m gonna give you a chance here because you’re probably drunk out of your mind. Walk out of here or find out what happens,” You growled lowly into his ear, smirking when his head tilted to the side in submission. No sober person would think it was a good idea to fuck with a well-known fighter.

“Get the fuck outta here,” You barked, shoving him towards the door, cockiness oozing off of you as the crowd parted for him to leave, your signature half-smile plastered squarely on your face as you watched him go.

You jumped as a soft hand was placed on your shoulder, and two arms wrapped carefully around your waist. The soothing scent of your mates cut through the cloud of angry alpha pheromones that surrounded you, making your inner beast purr. You took a deep breath, shaking your head and pulling you out of the mentality you took on when you were in the cage.

“You alright my darlings?” You asked softly, turning in Ali’s arms and burying your face in her neck, Ash’s hands on your back further bringing you down from what you all dubbed the ‘fight high,’.

“Real alpha?” Ali laughed into your ear, bringing a hand up to scratch your scalp, sharing a smirk with Ash when you began to literally purr. It always made them feel good when you melted in their arms. When you stopped being the big badass protector and allowed yourself to be protected.

“I thought it sounded good,” You huffed into her neck, placing a sweet kiss on your mating mark on her neck and leaning back to look her in the eyes. You shot her a crooked smile before leaning down to place a sweet kiss on her lips,

“Mm it did,” She moaned into your mouth, and your alpha perked up.

“Hey, what about me! I protected Ali too!” Ash whined from beside you, and you grinned, placing a sweet kiss on the alphas lips, literally kissing away her pout.

“How was the press conference?” Ashlyn asked, rubbing her nose on your neck, just over your mating mark. A shiver ran down your spine.

“Horrible, TJ doesn’t know when to shut his mouth,” You grumbled, allowing Ali to lead you back to the table where Alex, Kelley, Megan, and Sue we’re sitting.

“You’ll show him,” She said with confidence, nudging your shoulder.

“And I’m grumpy cause I’m cutting weight and this place had wings,” You whined, pulling Ali to a stop and pouting at her. The weigh-ins were in 3 days and that meant you really couldn’t cheat. It sucked. She rolled her eyes and placed a peck on your lips.

“Come on big bad alpha, let’s get you some celery,” Ali laughed, and you smiled against her lips.

“I’ll get the wings and let you smell them,” Ashlyn giggled, placing both hands on your shoulders and trying to rub the tension out of them.

“Do that and you’re on the couch,” Ali mumbled seriously, shooting the other alpha a pointed look. Kelley’s cackle brought you all out of your thoughts. You glanced over at her and sent her a small wave, shrinking slightly behind Ali’s

“It’s hilarious how you go from badass fighter to mushball I’m like 2 seconds,” Kelley said jubilantly, pointing and laughing. She winced when Alex slapped the back of her head.

“Only for them,” you murmured, sliding into the booth. It was the truth and you weren’t ashamed of it. You were only soft for your mates, and if anyone deserved it, it was them.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #krashlyn x reader #krashlyn imagine

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